


Unhinged

by Lubylu1989



Series: Twisted Minds [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lubylu1989/pseuds/Lubylu1989
Summary: Sequel to Twisted Minds!Harley has willingly gone back to Amanda Waller and Task Force X. After loosing something she didn't think she could have, she decides she needs to do some good to bring karma back her way. Joker meanwhile snaps, completely unhinged, he turns Gotham into a war zone. He blames Batman for Harley leaving, deciding that if the Dark Knight is going to take everything from him then it's only fair to return the favor. Meanwhile there's a new replacement in the squad, someone with a history with the Joker and is determined to end the Clown Prince of Crime once and for all. With Batman away, fighting with the Justice League, Amanda Waller decides to step in, excited with the prospect of having him owe her a favor. Harley and the Squad are sent to stop Joker from destroying Gotham once and for all, but can she stop her new team member from killing the only man she's ever loved, save Gotham and keep her head intact? Terrible summary but I've got a general plot, with a lot of characters and we're just going to see where this takes us!





	1. Loss

Belle Reeve. The hole, in a hole, in a hole. The prison, in the middle of a swamp with only one way in and one way out. Home to those with a terrorist label slapped onto them and who had tangled with the world’s elite Heroes; coming out bloodied, bruised, but still alive. Home to Amanda Waller’s misfit, thrown together squad; approved by the government yet hidden behind blanked out records and restricted access. Harley wasn’t sure if she was crazier than normal. Coming back to this place, to this shit hole willingly. Her hands were still cuffed, last night’s pyjamas doing minimal to keep the chill off her. Thankfully she had some foresight, wearing a pair of fluffy slippers to keep her toes protected since she didn’t particularly feel like getting them bitten by frost. She sighed, looking up at the high, grey walls, the Belle Reeve emblem staring back at her, scythe in hand and eyes hollow. She must have crossed a point, a line in the sand, to make her think that this was a good idea.

She was pulled inside, her eyes widening at the change. It was Belle Reeve alright but the place had had a makeover. The exposed wires, dripping pipes and cold steel had been ripped out. Replaced with white, painted walls with small, directional signs. Security cameras, one each corner, ensured no blind spots. They were place methodically down the hallway and at the end was a guard booth. It reminded her of Arkham, with the bullet proof, glass panelling but there was no exit door into the corridor. No. It was placed on the other side, well within the prison area so that there was only one way to get to it, and that was by going through the maze system of corridors and locked doors. Harley was pulled up to the booth, told to place her feet on two, painted footprints and lift her head. She could hear the buzz of something electronic, a grid like system moving over her face before a beep and the guard on the other side nodded.

“Take her through,” he grunted. The metal door in front of her swung open and she looked behind her, to the exit which now looked further away than she assumed. Her last look at freedom for a while. She was certain that at some point she would get out of here again. How though she wasn’t sure considering the beefed up, state of the art security measures, but there was always a way.

“Wowee,” she commented, letting out a low whistle, “You schmucks really didn’t mess around while I was gone.”

“Quit jabbering,” the guard leading her stated flatly, giving her shoulder a nudge to get her moving quicker.

“Question,” she giggled, leaning back and letting her blonde locks fall down her back, un-kept and un-brushed, “Is this the only area all fixed up or is it the whole place? Cells and all?”

“Everything,” she looked up at him, blinking her blue eyes before standing straight again. “This way,” he grabbed her elbow, leading her into a room and she shrugged, figuring they had a new processing procedure, “Any personal items left on you goes in here,” he raised a grey tray, putting it in front of her. “Uniform is here,” he slid a full tray towards her, the gaudy, pale yellow outfit from the past substituted for an orange pair. Harley blew a strand of hair out of her face.

“Orange really ain’t my colour,” she commented, picking it up. On the back it had a number, 05 and she hummed to herself, wondering if that meant she was one of five here or one of five in a team.

“You can change once you are in your cell,” the guard watched as she took her earrings off, putting them in the empty tray, followed by a couple of watches and her token necklaces. She had already been stripped of any weapons before arriving and it wasn’t like she could hide anything on her with how little she was wearing, “Once you have changed, pass out your clothes through the slot in the glass.”

“Glass?” now she was curious. It seemed Waller was really taking que from Arkham and she pictured the max cells she was used to, “No cage?”

“Since the incident, Waller felt it necessary to ensure all living conditions were suitable for habitation,” the guard narrowed his eyes, obviously not pleased with the new arrangement and thinking the prisoners didn’t deserve what little luxury they had.

“Ah, can’t have a squad if they croak before being let loose right?” Harley chuckled, knowing full well what Waller was playing at. The conditions before had been…unsavoury, animalistic really. It seemed Waller wanted to ensure they were fit for service. Still, it was a prison and Harley wasn’t expecting much, “How’s the food these days?”

“Better than what you lot deserve,” the guard snatched her tray of things, putting it though a slot in the wall and she heard them being taken away by someone on the other side, “This way.”

Harley followed the guard again, a slight bounce in her step. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad. As long as she had a decent bed to sleep on and meals that didn’t make her want to vomit then she would be happy until the call came. She hummed, looking around as much as she could, taking note of every sign she passed. The guard eventually stopped again, opening another door and standing off to the side. Harley looked at the plaque next to it, frowning. _Medical_ , stared back at her and she shifted her feet, pulling her lip between her teeth. She never had to do a medical check before and surely Waller knew enough that this wasn’t necessary.

“Do I gotta?” she looked to the guard, “I ain’t a fan of needles considering the last time I was here, you lot put a bomb in my neck.”

“It’s procedure,” he gave her a push, causing her to stumble in and the door closed behind her. She gulped, looking around, her body holding a slight tremble.

“Harleen Quinzel?” a voice rang out from the corner. Harley looked over, keeping her nerves at bay before giving a nod, “I’m Doctor Edgar.”

“This is just a check-up right?” Harley questioned, “No funny business?”

“Just a check up to assess your level of health,” the man pointed to a chair in the middle of the room, a machine Harley was familiar with sitting next to it. She sat down, fighting down her nerves once again and the doctor came over, clip board in hand but not really taking notice of her, “I’ll have to strap you to the chair, for my safety.”

“Hey, I’m here willingly, I ain’t goin’ to cause you any trouble,” Harley growled, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t like being restrained, didn’t like the feeling of being at someone else’s mercy unless it was her Puddin’ in charge.

“It’s procedure,” Harley was really, really getting sick of that sentence but she took a deep breath, allowing him to un-cuff her, only to strap her arms and legs to the chair. Harley wriggled her now bare toes, making sure they didn’t cut of her circulation and her fingers drummed on the metal arm rests, “Now, Director Waller informs me that you recently had a miscarriage.”

Harley turned her head, looking at the doctor with a blank stare, her blue eyes void of any emotion and she nodded slowly. She didn’t say a word, just acknowledged that his statement was correct. The doctor looked over the notes, looking to her briefly with a frown before going back to them. Harley remained silent; the words he had spoken putting her in a numbed state. It was something she didn’t discuss, couldn’t discuss. The doctor grabbed the blood pressure cuff off of the machine, wrapping it around her arm and stood back. He grabbed his own seat, a padded office chair and wheel over to her.

“Last week correct?” she nodded again, her face still blank, “Any complications?”

“No,” she looked away, staring at the machine to watch the numbers go up as the band tightened.

“What about now? Any continuing blood loss? Pain? Fever?” the cuff deflated, the numbers 121/79 flashing on the screen. The doctors pen scratched on his pad, jotting it down and she turned back to him.

“No,” he nodded, staring at her for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

“Did you receive any support through your loss? From your partner? Friends? A medical practitioner?” her heart clenched, her breathing picking up and she felt her shoulders slump.

He didn’t know, her Puddin’ that is. She hadn’t said anything to him but he knew, he knew _something_ had been wrong and he had grown frustrated with her. He didn’t like people upset, didn’t like when they cried or whimpered and Harley had done just that. She had tried to hide her pain from him but he had noticed, telling her to get out and come back when she was done feeling sorry for herself. He thought, she assumed, it had been her injury from when she had taken a fall while fighting Batman. He wasn’t wrong, it had been a factor possibly in causing her condition. Harley had slunk away, deciding he was right; it was best she got herself sorted before going back. She had figured out where she could go; Her logic was flawed, she knew that, but she was hoping that if she did something, _anything_ , that was remotely good that maybe karma would come back around for her, just like Diablo had told Deadshot that time in the bar.

“Miss Quinzel?” the doctor looked concerned and clicked his fingers in front of her face, “Do you need me to ask Director Waller for anything support related?”

“Like she would give me that,” Harley bit out, sour at the line of questioning, “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” the doctor was treating her like any other patient, the empathy required there, but Harley knew his resources would be limited and she would rather not have anyone else knowing her business.

“I’m sure,” the doctor nodded, his lips in a thin line but didn’t say anything more.

“Was your partner aware?” Harley shook her head, “So it was unplanned?”

“What do you think?” she snapped, “My Mistah J, he ain’t got time for kids, he…he…he wouldn’t have wanted it anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t,” they both knew the doctor was crossing his boundaries. This was supposed to be a simple check-up, not a therapy session.

“I came to terms that havin’ a kid wasn’t in my cards a long time ago,” she breathed out, thinking back to her session with Joan while in Arkham for the first time, “Besides, if I did, Batman would probably just take it away from me, just like he did-,” she stopped, taking in a sharp breath, refusing to think about it and the moment after, when she knew in her heart that the damage had been done.

“Did what?” the doctor pressed, leaning towards her, “Harley, did you lose your child because of violence?”

“Occupational hazard,” Harley shrugged, closing herself off again, “We done here doc, I wanna see where I’ll be sleeping.”

“You’re tired, that’s to be expected,” he pulled away, realising he had gone too far and Harley was thankful. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Hell, she wanted to lock it away in that little box that had a big ‘do not touch’ on it in the back of her mind, “I’ll just take some blood to do some tests.”

“Do it quick,” he nodded, pulling out a draw with a sterilised, packaged kit. She watched him unwrap it, setting it all up before wrapping a band around her arm and tapping for a vein. He found one, quickly inserted the needle then undid the band. He took a few vials, labelling them quickly then removed it and stood up.

“All done,” he gave her one last look, a small, genuine smile on his lips as a way to give her some comfort but Harley didn’t return it. Her mind was elsewhere now. He walked to the door, opening it and the guard came in. He unstrapped her before re-cuffing her and she stood up, taking her new uniform from his arm before shuffling forward.

She was led to a large, open area. Tables sitting in the middle, bolted down to the floor and on each side there were cells, much similar to that at Arkham but there was a walled section for privacy, something Harley was thankful for as she knew Boomer would be here somewhere and she didn’t trust him in the slightest. She liked him, he was funny, a good laugh, but she could do without the backhanded, sleazy comments for a while. She was taken to a cell in the middle, the door opening without the guard pushing anything which led Harley to concluded there were no controls on this floor; it was all controlled somewhere else in the building, preventing the chance of the inmates fiddling and breaking out. The door closed behind her and she looked around. A small bed off to the side, the mattress new along with the sheets sitting on the end. She had a small amount of toiletries placed on a sink, next to a shower to limit the need to get the inmates out of the cells. It was like a shoe box in a shoe box. Compact but with the essentials. Harley sat down on the cot, looking down at the uniform in her hands and took a deep breath.

“Well Harls, looks like this is home sweet home for a while,” she mumbled to herself as she stripped her top off, throwing the prison issued one over top before slipping off her shorts and into the thin, nylon based pants. She pushed her old clothes through the slot and the guard on the other side took them, giving her a curt nod before walking off. Harley watched him go. Her hand on the glass and wondering if she had done the right thing.

……………………………………

Joker threw his keys on the coffee table, putting himself down he in front of it on one of the couches and crossed his leg over the other before laying his hands out on the back of it. He looked around, his men already moving to the bar, their voices still holding the edge of adrenaline from their latest heist. Lately the other annoying pest was meddling in his business, tightening his access to his funds while Batman was off gallivanting wherever. Joker always knew Batman had left Gotham because his protégé, Nightwing, operated differently. He didn’t patrol, didn’t wait on the rooftops until something occurred. No, he was out, hitting those in the underground where it hurt. Their supply routes. It wasn’t all that effective, not when it came to Joker’s organisation, but it was a pain when a shipment of weapons was confiscated because of the meddling rat. What made it worse though, was that Nightwing was the only one of Batman’s Robins he couldn’t shake. Hell, he had tried numerous ways but nope, the kid was unshakeable, just like his mentor. Luckily for him, he had his own sidekick to distract the brat while him and the Bat sat at the adults table.

Thinking of his sidekick and partner in crime, he looked around, half expecting Harley to come waltzing down the stairs, pouting that she had missed out on another heist due to them arguing. It wasn’t normal for her to be gone this long. Sure he had been annoyed at her, frustrated that she hadn’t picked herself up like usual when facing down the Bat, especially when the hit she had taken hadn’t even been that bad considering previous encounters. He leant his head back, looking to the stairs, counting the seconds in his head and waiting. Nothing, not a peep. No click of heels, no god awful, upbeat music she insisted on playing whenever she was home by herself, no ‘Puddin’. He sat forward, his hands coming off the back of the couch and clasping together as he put a knuckle between his teeth. Had he been too harsh on her? Should he have tried to get to the bottom of what was really wrong with her before kicking her out?

“Frost,” the henchman was sitting across from him, drink at his lips which lowered when he was addressed, “Is Harley still with the plant?”

“Boss?” Frost looked confused, his brows furrowing together, “You want me to check?”

“What do you think?” Joker drawled, “Call the plant, tell her I expect Harley to be back her by tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing,” Jonny pulled out his phone, dialling Ivy’s number as they knew full well if Harley was pissed she would ignore the call altogether. Joker couldn’t count on his fingers the number of times he had busted that woman’s door down to pick up the defiant, pain in the ass blonde and bring her back, “Ivy,” Jonny spoke, Joker keeping a close eye on him as did, “J wants Harley back home.”

There was silence, then Jonny slid his eyes to Joker and his lips thinned and slowly, ever so slowly, the colour drained from his face. A growl started in the back of the clown’s throat, one that was quiet but spoke volumes at the same time. He knew what was coming next, knew the news Jonny was about to speak as he disconnected the phone and ran a hand through his hair before letting out a deep sigh. Joker slammed his hand down on the table, standing up and storming upstairs. Jonny didn’t have to say anything. Harley was missing, again. The only place she ever went after fighting with him was Ivy’s and if she wasn’t there then that meant someone had slipped her out from under his nose. If she had gone to Arkham he would have known, it would have been all over the news and he would have received a phone call. No. This was something else, something like before.

He took the stairs, two at a time, ready to tear the room apart to get some indication if she had any contact with someone outside of their usual group just in case. She had been acting strange, out of character, a subdued version of herself that had left a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought back to the doctor she once had been. His Harley girl was not quiet, was not contemplative. She was brash, destructive, unpredictable. When something was wrong she didn’t sit in the back ground. She destroyed things, shouted, kicked, bit, did whatever she could to show how displeased she was. Harley never kept secrets from him, but she had been and he wished he had payed attention to the red flags because then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have gone from under his nose again.

Joker flipped the mattress on the bed, only finding hidden knives and guns under it. He moved on, pulling out the bedside draws, shuffling through paper but all he could find was discarded plans, cut out snippets of magazines and newspapers Harley had wanted to keep. Nothing of interest. He eyed the bathroom, the room she spent endless of hours in getting ready and a room she had claimed as her own. He stormed in, ripping the door open and cringed at the sight. He hated mess. Perfume bottles were laying on their side’s, caps off and discarded on the floor. Lipstick tubes lay in the sink, thrown in a hurry from when he would yell at her to get her ass into gear. Crumpled clothes, some covered in blood that wasn’t hers, others torn from scuffles with either GCPD or the Bat. There was nothing here, nothing but her normal chaotic mess. He went to turn, went to leave the bathroom altogether when he caught sight of the bin next to the toilet. There was a stick, a plastic stick that he had seen once in his previous life when he was a pathetic, failed comedian.

Joker blinked, shocked for a moment before moving forward and gingerly picking it up and out of the waste. He peered at it, not sure what to make of the tiny stick with two, red lines on it. Positive. He sighed, throwing it back in the bin before letting out a groan. How had he missed this? His Harley girl was pregnant. No wonder she was awol; she was probably hiding, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t really factor in a kid into his life. He didn’t have a need for that kind of disruption. They were nuisances really, needy little things that demanded constant attention. Hopefully Harley was off, doing what they both knew was the right thing in this situation. A kid, their kid, now that wasn’t a Joke he wanted a part of. If Harley was smart, she would take care of it and come back her normal self.

Still, his eyes went back to the stick, the two lines visible still and he pursed his lips. They had never really discussed the option of kids. He had just figured it wouldn’t need saying but there was a niggling there, the regret of a distant memory he hadn’t thought of in a long, long time. He shook his head; nothing good would come from thinking of what could have been nor that one bad day that had set everything in motion. Without that loss, he would never had met Batman, his reason for existing, for performing. His mind trailed to their last encounter a week ago, to the hit that Harley had taken and a piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Her stomach had caught the corner of a rather sturdy table as she was knocked back by Gotham’s Dark Knight. After that, she had practically crawl herself into a corner to keep out of the way. Harley knew to stay clear whenever he and Batman were face to face. It was Joker’s show, Batman’s attention should be completely on him and him alone. Now though looking back, Harley had acted like a wounded animal trying to find a corner to lay down and die quietly in.

No. Harley wasn’t pregnant, she _had_ been pregnant and the Bat had taken that from her, from them. Joker stood up, pulled out his gun, aimed towards the mirror and let off a full clip, his anger getting the better of him. He could feel it, the memory of that day coming forward. The loss of his wife, of his unborn child, the event that catapulted him into madness. He felt his body tense, his finger continuing to pull the trigger even though there were no bullets left in it. He didn’t want a kid, didn’t need a kid but he could have had one, one with his Harley girl. It didn’t matter that he would have expected Harley not to have it. What mattered was that Batman had taken something of his from him, something with his blood, his genetics, a potential legacy to torment Gotham once he was gone. He had taken a piece of Joker, destroyed it before it could come to fruition and in the process he may have lost Harley to.

Joker needed Harley, he had grown to accept that fact after she had been taken from him to be in that pathetic, government, suicidal squad. He also knew that she was completely devoted to him but a child…a child would have changed that, could have changed that. Priorities shifted when children were involved. Harley could have promised him, sworn black and blue that he would come first but he knew, oh, he knew, that that wouldn’t be the case. A child would steal her heart away from him, would be put before him. He knew she would prefer to stay home, to care for the…the t _hing_. He knew it would have changed her, changed how things were. What he didn’t know was what the loss of a child would do. If it had been something she had done for him, something she had come to the conclusion that needed to be done because them being parents was not possible in their lifestyle, she could have moved past it. Mourned of course but accepted. Losing it though? Losing it could make her run, could have made her run. She could be blaming him, hating him. She could have left him because it was the one thing she may never forgive him for. Joker looked at the sink again, his eyes gliding over her things carefully as a pit formed in his stomach. He had lost his Harley girl and this time he didn’t think she was coming back and Joker…he knew e _xactly_ whose fault that was.


	2. Chapter 2

 Amanda Waller watched the team closely. There were screens in front of her, set up so that she could see any part of the prison anytime she wanted. Today though she wanted to keep a close eye on Task Force X. Now that Harley was back, she was hoping it would ease tension in the group. Their past few missions had been questionable, the information they were meant to obtain for her nearly lost due to their petty squabbling over who should be leader. Flag had tried his best of course to keep them in line, but with one to many egos in the group and their lack of trust with the newest addition, at some point things were to go terribly wrong. She needed them to perform well, needed them to prove their worth like they had done in the past. She hated to admit it but if it wasn’t for their accomplishments, Belle Reeve would not have been given the much needed upgrade. Still, there was something brewing, something big that made her whole body tingle with anticipation.

Batman had been sniffing around, looking for answers and his own team that he had put together was starting to give those in a higher position doubts about her operation. She needed the next few missions to run well, better than well in fact so that she could present her reports in a positive light. Batman and his group, they were good, the pinnacle but they were unable to do what was necessary. Task Force X were able though; Whatever means necessary, they would do it and in return she promised a few more years off their prison sentences. The ticking down of years was even starting to look enticing to Captain Boomerang, even though he had issues with authority, especially when Deadshot took the lead. If Deadshot was the leader of the sheep, then it was Flag who was the shepherd.  With June Moon rid of Enchantress, it had been hard to convince the man to stay on board and keep his mouth shut. Well, it would have been hard for anyone except her. Amanda Waller always knew how to get what she wanted, so digging up a few, classified files, was easy for her and the risk of exposure with an dishonourable discharge over his head was all she needed.

“That her,” a deep voice asked behind her. Waller didn’t pay the man any attention, her eyes watching as the team were let out for breakfast. A small amount of human interaction between team mates in an attempt to get them used to each other, “Waller.”

“Yes,” she looked to the man who was standing next to her chair, looking down at one screen in particular, “That’s Harley Quinn, Joker’s girlfriend.”

“Our deal still stands?” Amanda didn’t particularly trust the hired gun. She knew he had ties to the League of Shadows, also somehow to Batman that even she couldn’t dig up. What she did know though was that the man had a grudge against Joker and the Bat. He was skilful, an all-rounder that complimented the rest of the team after having gone through so many others to fill Diablo’s place. That didn’t mean she liked him. Just like everyone else here, he had his own, selfish goal and she knew it put the team at risk. He wasn’t a criminal, not like them, he was more of an outlaw, a vigilante who was willing to step over that blood seeped line and get his hands dirty, “If he comes for her, he’s mine like promised?”

“Yes,” she ground out, “Only if you do your job and restrain yourself.”

“He had it coming,” Amanda slammed her hands down on the sides of her chair, spinning to face him and eyeing the scarred letter on his left cheek.

“You don’t get to pot off members of my team,” she snarled, his indiscretion overlooked only because of his usefulness, “For the team to work, they have to trust that you have their backs, not put a bullet in it.”

“Their scumbag criminals, one less in the world is a good thing,” he replied, leaning forward to look at the screen more carefully.

“Those scumbags,” Amanda ground out, “Are my responsibility and anymore friendly fire will draw unwanted attention to us.”

“I get it,” he leant back, standing straight again but she watched as he raised one hand, closed an eye and pretended to shoot the blonde woman on the screen with his fingers.

“I said you could have Joker,” she looked back to the screen which Harley was on, chatting away animatedly to Deadshot and Digger, who for once, were not at each other’s throats and confirming her suspicions, “Quinn is to be left alone.”

“Guilty by association,” the man shrugged, “If she gets in my way, I won’t be hesitating.”

“Get out,” the man chuckled, knowing full well the woman was irritated by him but needed him.

Amanda turned back to the screens. Looking at the three, original team members, the only one missing was Croc, who preferred to stay in his old cell with the comfort of familiar surroundings, ratty couch and big TV. Harley had told her she was here to do something good for once, blaming her lifestyle for her loss but the Director knew that wasn’t the whole truth. Amanda had experienced loss before and the need for answers that came with it. Harley was here because she felt lost, her resolve to stand by Joker shaken by losing something precious. She blamed herself, her lifestyle and now she was trying to pay penance. It had nothing to do with _doing_ something good, and everything to do with doing something that made _her_ feel good. The motivation wasn’t pure, wasn’t out of the need to help others. It was selfish, just like Deadshot was here to quell his guilt over choosing the life of an assassin instead of a proper father and Digger, well, he just didn’t want his head to become detached from his shoulders.

…………………………………..

Harley twirled her hair in her finger, chewing on the bottom of her lip as she sat next to Floyd. Digger was behind them, legs crossed and head down as he napped. They had been sitting in a small room for a while, nothing but a turned off screen hanging on the wall and a door off to the side. Harley groaned, jumping to her feet and stretched her arms up. It was far too late to be rudely awaken and dragged out of their cells. Floyd, aka, Deadshot watched her bounce on her toes, then drop down with an exasperated sigh. She wasn’t good at waiting. Never had been and never would be. In the back, Digger let out a snore before shifting slightly and she sprung up straight looking around the room. Disappointed she couldn’t find anything to use she figured she’d have to improvise. Floyd shook his head at her childish antics, but she was bored and wanted someone to play with to pass the time.

She raised a finger to her lips, making a shushing noise before putting herself down next to Digger. One leg was tucked under her and her torso was completely turned to him. His head dropped further, indicating he was completely out to it and Harley hummed to herself, wondering what to do. Even though Floyd disapproved, he still watched closely and Harley winked at him before shoving Digger hard. The man yelled out, falling to the side and out of the chair. He hit the ground, startled with wide eyes as he spluttered out a number of obscenity before noticing Harley leaning over the chairs and down at him with a wide smile.

“Wakey, wakey, Digger,” he grunted, pushing himself to a sitting position, “Were you dreamin’ ‘bout Katana,” she pointed her finger at him, her smile getting wider. He didn’t say anything and Harley clapped her hands together, “Aw Digger, has somebody got a crush on our favourite sword wielding babysitter?”

“I take back what I said,” Digger grumbled, still not moving from the ground, “I preferred it when you weren’t around.”

“No take backsies,” Harley laughed. When she had first arrived, he had told her that he had missed having her around. Well, what he had actually said was that he missed the trouble she could stir up but Harley read between the lines.

“Harley,” Floyd drew her attention away, his fingers massaging his temples, “Reel it in.”

“Naw Floyd, don’t be a party pooper,” she pouted before turning back to Digger and offering him her hand, “No hard feelings?”

“You’re worse than my ex after throwing back a Goon,” he took her hand, putting himself back in his seat but she could tell he was sulking from being rudely awoken.

“Oh Dig, Diggy, Digger,” she wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning into his shoulder as she did, “I don’t know what a Goon is but I’m gonna pretend it’s somethin’ nice.”

“Don’t,” he pulled his arm out from her grip, putting a distance between them, “It’s cheap boxed wine.”

“You hang out with some real classy people,” Harley sighed, “How am I ever to compare.”

“Harley, I told you to reel it in,” she poked her tongue out at Floyd, slumping back into the seat next to Digger and crossing her arms over her chest. The scruffy Australian leaned over to her, his eyes looking to the back of their team mates head.

“Don’t mind him love, he’s had a stick up his arse ever since he decided he was the leader of our merry squad,” he pulled back, looking to the door on the side while Harley chuckled to herself. “Croc shouldn’t be too far away if he hasn’t decided to chew on a few limbs,” as if on cue, the door opened and the scaled man lumbered in. Harley jumped up, excited to see him finally.

“Hey Croc,” she grinned, “Was wondering when I’d see that beautiful mug of yours,” in response, he gave her a low growl and a slight lift of his head.

In her mind she counted them, four in total minus Diablo. The thought of the man made her sombre and she sat back down, remembering the way her gut wrenched when he had sacrificed himself for them. He had called them his family, regarded them as people worth throwing his life away for and here they were, probably about to be thrown into another warzone where more of them may die. It gave her a small bit of hope that Floyd, Digger and Croc were still intact though so if she followed their lead surely she would to. But that left an opening, four wasn’t really a team and her eyes went to the door Croc had just come through. Would it be someone she knew. The chances were high considering all of them in the room, excluding Digger originated from Gotham. Maybe it was a girl she could get chummy with. Actually, no, she would rather work on her relationship with Katana. She was certain a few more missions and Katana would regard her as a friend, maybe she would even let Harley drink a Goon with her. She snorted, causing the three men to look at her confused which only caused her to laugh. Goon, what a strange word. Couldn’t they just call it boxed wine? Or a box? Or just wine? She took note to ask Digger about lingo differences later. It could be fun learning a few new words to add to her vocabulary.

The door clicked open and Floyd, Digger and Croc fell silent as a man stepped in, face covered in a red mask. Harley couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel him staring at her as a chill swept down her back. Something about this guy didn’t sit right, in fact, she could feel the hate seeping off him and aimed in her direction. Harley found herself shifting closer to Digger who placed an arm around her shoulder sensing her rising anxiety. It wasn’t like Digger to be kind, it wasn’t like any of them to be kind really, they were bad guys, what did they care for each other’s comfort but something about this guy must have had him on edge to. From behind, she could see Floyd’s shoulder tense and he rolled them back while Croc snapped his teeth. The man didn’t stop staring at her, not until he moved and sat next to the unofficial leader of the team. He seemed to not care about the effect he had on the team.

“Watch out for that one, Craziness,” Digger mumbled to her, pull her head next to his so that only she could hear him, “I would trust a dingo with a baby more than I trust him.”

“Who is he?” Harley whispered back, “He one of us?”

“Nah,” the twang of his accent made her cringe slightly, “Hired gun, here for the cash, look,” he pointed to the back of his neck, a small part of skin exposed between the back of the mask and the brown jacket he was wearing, “Ain’t no bomb in his neck.”

“You two scumbags done yacking?” the man had his arms across the back of Floyd’s seat and the empty one on his right. His head was leaned back, his voice holding an air of superiority. Harley decided to bite the bullet.

“Harley Quinn,” she held out her hand, a wide smile on her face but her eyes were cold, “And you are?”

“Oh, I know who you are,” he slapped her hand away, “Hack job psychologist turned lapdog to Joker.”

“Hack?” Harley puffed out her cheeks, “Where do you get off questionin’ my credentials?”

“You’ve had your fun, Red Hood,” Floyd spoke up, grabbing the man’s arm and throwing it off the back of his chair, “Lay off.”

“Alright,” he put his head down, raising his hands up, “Pull rank to protect the murdering clown.”

“I’ll murder you in a moment,” Harley hissed, Diggers grip on her shoulders tightening to keep her in her seat.

“Leave it, Craziness,” Digger muttered under his breath, “He’s one of them self-righteous types.”

“Ha!” Harley let out a bark of a laugh, “Two-bit criminal with a hero complex,” she said it loudly, intending for him to hear, “Hey Red Hood,” she leaned forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. She felt it tense under her chin and chuckled, pleased she was making him uncomfortable, “You tryin’ to be Batman or somethin’?”

“Harley!” Floyd jumped up and Croc moved from his position at the wall. They had both attached themselves to Red Hood’s arms who had tried to launch himself at her from over the chairs. Harley let out a roaring laugh, happy she had gotten under his skin, just as he had hers.

“What’s the matter?” Harley sat back in her chair, eyeing him up smugly with bright eyes, “Did I hit a nerve? You were one of them kids who begged mummy and daddy to dress you up as Batsy on Halloween weren’t you? Probably sat by your window every night hoping to catch a glimpse of him.”

“Harley, stop!” they were struggling to hold him back and she felt it again. That overwhelming feeling of hatred directed at her and she looked away, hating that it made her tremble slightly.

“Didn’t your parent’s ever tell you to play nice with the other kiddies?” Digger snickered, enjoying seeing the man riled up just as much as Harley did. She hadn’t done it for the fun of it though, she honestly wanted to find out a bit more about him and where he was from. The name Red Hood rang a bell and the way he reacted indicated he was from Gotham but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out if she knew him to have such hatred directed towards her. She flicked her eyes back, taking him in as he regained his composure and moved as far away from her as possible. Still, nothing came to her mind. He must be from Gotham but new on the scene, maybe someone who had left to live a life somewhere new?

“I see you’ve acquainted yourself with the new member,” Waller waltzed in, a remote in her hand and Harley waved as if she had seen a long lost friend.

“Get this over with Waller,” Floyd snapped, clearly frustrate with having to be babysitting a bunch of adults acting like unruly kids in the playground.

“An hour ago,” Waller nodded, starting her speech and she pushed the controller in her hand. The room went quiet, a familiar city one screen, “The bridges in and out of Gotham were destroyed by explosives.”

“All of them?” Harley piped up, looking to the screen where it focused on one bridge. The middle was completely gone, the sides bowing down into the water and she watched as abandoned cars slid down below. “Big deal,” she huffed, impressed but knowing there were other ways out, “What about the tunnel and the ferries and people with them fancy helicopters?”

“Alternative routes have been blocked off, the tunnel, like the bridge has been collapsed, the ferries stuck in the middle of the bay, hijacked by unknown assailants,” Harley made a circle with her finger in the air and Waller eyeballed her, “Any attempt to leave by air results in it being shot down.”

“Wowee,” Harley hummed, “Someone’s been busy.”

“Is it the clown?” Red Hood spoke up. Harley looked to Waller expectantly. It seemed like something her Puddin’ would do but then again it seemed more like something Bane would do.

“As of this moment, we don’t know whose organised this,” Waller stated sternly, “It could be a number of individuals or a group.”

“Let Batman and boy blunder deal with it,” Harley had lost interest, knowing full well it would be stupid to send the team into his territory trying to play hero.

“He’s busy,” her tone was flat and her face unwavering.

“What do you mean he’s busy?” Harley cocked her head to the side, “He go on vacation or somethin’?”

“He’s dealing with a greater threat,” she didn’t elaborate and Harley huffed out her breath. What was more important than his precious Gotham?

“Ain’t Mistah J then,” she looked to Red Hood who seemed far too eager to pin it on her Puddin’, “If the Bat isn’t there to play then there’s no point to it.”

“I’m with Harley,” Floyd spoke up, “The Bat has friends. Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, hell, even Gordon, let them handle it.”

“They’re missing,” now that got the rooms attention. Floyd looked back at her, his eyebrow raised and asking the question again without saying it. All the Bat family missing with no Batman around? That seemed personal, something she had heard her Puddin’ voice a few times. She never thought he would actually do it though. He just saw them as pests, irritated when they got between him and Batman.

“What do you mean they’re missing,” Red Hood sounded alarmed.

“For now, that’s all you need to know,” Waller clicked the remote again, flicking through a number of buildings sprawled out over the city, “These buildings are the only ones in Gotham that currently have power. Your job is to make your way to these buildings and find weapon X.”

“You want us to find a weapon?” Digger snorted, “The whole city is going down in flames and you’re sending us in to search for a weapon?”

“You have a problem with that Harkness?” he shook his head in disbelief but didn’t say anymore, “Harley, stay behind while the others get ready.”

“Hit me Boss lady,” Harley yawned, “This you tellin’ me not to go lookin’ for my Puddin’? Keep my head down and intact?”

“No,” Waller clicked the remote again and a picture flicked up on the screen. Harley swallowed thickly, sitting at attention, “I want you to stick with flag, when you get the chance, break off from the group and find out where he’s hiding.”

“Waller,” Harley started slowly, eyes taking in every little detail she could, “I don’t tell my Puddin’ what he can and can’t do…if you’re expecting me to-.”

“That level of gas will take out the whole city,” Waller picked up her file, looking for one page before handing it to her, “You’re immune and the only one who can get close enough to disarm it.”

“Look Waller,” Harley paused, “If…If my Puddin’ wants to take it that far, then I’m not going to stop him.”

“You don’t think that this is too far?” Waller questioned, slightly disgusted with her and Harley shrunk back. Even she found this disturbing.

“So that’s weapon X?” Waller nodded, “And you think it’s in one of those buildings.”

“No,” Harley tilted her head, eyes furrowed, “Joker has hostages in those buildings.”

“Ah,” the blonde clicked, everything falling into place, “You’re sending us in to save Batsy’s little family hoping that he’ll turn the blind eye to all of this,” she waved her hand, motioning around, “Got ya.”

“Harley,” Waller didn’t want to let her stray from the point, “If you don’t disarm the weapon, Red Hood has clearance to take out Joker.”

“He what?” Harley curled her fists, standing up and growing angry, “What are you playin’ at Waller.”

“Leverage Quinn,” Waller looked smug, her arms crossed over her chest, “I can assure you Red Hood is more than capable of getting the job done. Save Gotham or it’s Joker’s head.”

“If Batsy can’t take down my Puddin’ there ain’t no way that schmuck can,” Harley tried to calm her breathing and calm the panic welling up in her chest. She couldn’t lose him, not after losing…she shook her head, it wasn’t the time nor place for her mind to wander there.

“Red Hood has a similar skill set to that of Batman, the difference is that Red Hood will pull the trigger when Batman wont,” so he really was trying to be another Bat. Harley scoffed at the idea. A Bat that killed; now that was disturbing.

“So what, you think the others won’t notice if I just disappear?” Flag stepped forward, taking over from Waller who was done with the conversation.

“You’re to stay close to me. After the first building, we’ll split the teams into three. Katana and Digger will head to the Diamond district. Red Hood, Deadshot and Croc will go to Crime Alley,” she nodded, understanding that her Mistah J had probably put some games in place and he did like his count downs. It was best to split if they were going to save all of the Bat family and Gordon, “We’ll go to Amusement Mile.”

“Right, gotcha,” Harley’s mind was already spinning with a plan. There was no way in hell she was going to let anyone get close to her Puddin’. Something was wrong, something very wrong. Sure he had wanted to push Batman’s buttons but this felt like the end, like he was throwing the gauntlet down to finally decide the winner. That terrified Harley and she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had she done this by leaving or had something else unhinged him while she was away? Her Puddin’ would never do something this big, not without involving her. She swallowed dryly, her stomach knotting and she looked to Flag, “Alright, let’s go save Gotham.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harley held the ends of a chunk of her hair up in front of her. She eyed the strands, picking off any split ends she found. The plane ride was boring, slow, everyone inside on edge for one reason or another. For Harley, it was the man two seats over from her with his gun in hand, checking the weapon intently. Floyd and Croc, both apprehensive about going back to the city they have been chased out of by Gotham’s vigilante and Digger, well, he was sitting back, beer in hand already. Harley chuckled, drawing his attention and he held it out, offering her a sip; she took it, needing something to do. Digger reached inside his jacket, a flash of pink catching her eye and the silver of a horn, which belonged to his unicorn as he grabbed out another beer. Harley never questioned the quirk as she was never one to judge; he had his unicorn, Harley her bat and scathing wit when the situation called for it

“Victoria Bitter,” Harley mumbled, curious about the brand that had a big VB in the middle as she hadn’t come across it before, “Is this new?”

“Nah love, had Waller import it in from my own backyard,” he cracked open his own, slugging it back and Harley shrugged, taking a sip. She curled up her nose at the taste, not really one for beer but she swallowed it before making a face and shaking her head, “Liquid gold this stuff is.”

“I’m more of a cocktail girl,” Harley handed the beer off to Croc who looked like he needed something else to focus on rather than the fact they were in a plane, “You know, with them little umbrellas.”

“Pansy stuff, love,” Digger leaned forward towards her, “Why pay an arm and a leg for one of them fancy drinks when you can hand over a twenty and get a box of twelve.”

“Quality over quantity,” Harley pointed her finger.

“Ha!” the Australian laughed, throwing is head back, “I like my beer like I like my women, cheap, fast and preferably more than one.”

“The only type of woman that would go near you Digger would be the crazy ones,” Floyd spoke up causing Harley to gasp and hold a hand over her chest.

“On behalf of all the crazies in the world, I object to that statement!” she kept her eyes wide, shocked and disappointed, “We have much better taste than that!”

“Sure you do,” Floyd had his mask in hand, his thumb rubbing over the monocle, “Because a sociopath is such a step up.”

“Hey!” Harley puffed out her cheeks, not taking any offence as she picked up on his teasing tone, “Me and my Mistah J understand each other, we got a good thing goin’, not that I expect any of you to understand.”

“Trust me, love,” Digger finished his beer, scrunching the empty can in his hand before dropping it on the ground, “If we understood _that_ we’d be as crazy as you, and I think I speak for the rest of this merry squad when I say we prefer to stay outside of the loony bin.”

“It ain’t that bad,” Harley picked up her hair again, this time tying it up into her two, signature ponytails, “Three meals a day, a rec room that has cartoons and once a week you get to play with the white coats.”

“Weren’t you one of them white coats?” Digger kicked the empty beer can over to her with his foot, “Before you went…you know…bonkers.”

“Why?” she grinned broadly but her eyelids feel to hood her eyes lazily, “Want me to dig around in that had of yours, find out why mummy didn’t want ya?”

“Try all you like love but my relationship with my ma is rock solid,” the blonde reeled herself back in, realising she needed Digger to be on her side when the time came, just like Croc and Floyd.

“Mummy’s boy,” Harley winked, “I can see it.”

“Nothing wrong with appreciating the old lady,” Digger shrugged his shoulders, “She did a fine job in raising me.”

“Enough chatter,” Flag spoke up, standing up as he did and peering at each of them one at a time, “Rides over, time to jump.”

“Jump?” Digger spoke up before Harley could, “Are you mad mate? I’m not jumping out of no plane.”

“We can’t get close to the city without the risk of being shot down,” Flag stated, picking up a backpack from under his seat, “Unless you want a repeat of Midtown, I suggest you get your ass out that hatch.”

“Um,” Harley raised her hand, “I’m not opposed to jumpin’ but…where exactly are we supposed to be landin’.”

“Gotham park,” she went to protest but then realised with Gotham’s skyscraper landscape it was the best area to aim. Still not a hundred percent convinced it was all her Puddin’s doing, she figured the docks would be a no go considering the warehouses surrounding that area all had illegal ties. The park, although covered in trees, had clear areas, ones where they could land, then scramble to cover if needed.

“I’m assuming you all know how to use a shoot?” a few, like Croc who was more comfortable on the ground than in the air, shook their heads, “Alright, crash course then.” Flag clipped the backpack like bag securely, showing how to clip it so that it didn’t slip off the grabbed a small, triangle handle, “I’ll go first, when you see me pull, you pull this. If your shoot doesn’t open, you have a backup and if that doesn’t work, well, guess you’re shit outta luck.”

“Gee, that was so informative,” Harley rolled her eyes, “Pull the shoot or become a pancake.”

“Still lacking in the pep talk area aren’t you Flag,” Floyd chuckled, securing his own weapon before standing up and putting his own shoot on with ease.

“I figured the bombs in your necks are still incentive enough,” Flag’s response wasn’t as stern as it could be. Since Midway it was obvious he was a bit more relaxed and comfortable but he still held his professional edge, keeping that line between him and them. It was funny how a life and death, kill or be killed situation could bring a group of people together.

“Taking tips from Waller?” Floyd made a small, chuckle like sound and if he didn’t have his mask on Harley probably would have caught the slight side smile at the banter between them.

“Don’t push me Deadshot,” Flag warned.

“Flag! We can’t get any closer!” the pilot yelled back to them, “We’re picking up a number of hostiles, if you don’t jump now, we’ll be shot down!”

“Alright kiddies,” Digger clapped his hands together, “Let’s get this party started shall we?”

The hatch began to open and Harley clenched her teeth together as the wind bit her skin. Thankfully she had made the wise choice, opting for the black and red, thick leather pants over the shorts that had been in her bag. Gotham was always cold, usually she didn’t mind it as she liked how her Puddin’ watched her, but the idea of walking around like that on a mission for Waller had made her teeth chatter without the cold even reaching her yet. Harley fastened the clip over her gun, making sure it wouldn’t fall in the descent and grabbed her bat in one hand. She hoped she could keep hold of it but she didn’t really have anywhere to put it. She sighed, feeling around her belt to see if there was any way to clip it securely to it when a hand reached out, gabbing it off her. She looked to Croc, giving him an appreciative smile; his grip was a lot stronger than hers and he probably had less chance of losing it than she did.

“Thanks big guy,” she punched him lightly in the shoulder before looking him over quickly. A strap was unclipped and she noticed he was shaking. Poor guy hated flying and jumping from a plane was probably, way, way, down on his list of things to do in life. Harley did it up, pulling the strap to make sure it was tight to give him a better feeling of security before speaking, “Keep your eye on Flag, Croc, I’ll go last, you go before me, you’re heavier so will probably fall faster.”

“Thanks Harley,” how he spoke was always slow, like it took a while for his mouth to form the words or he overcompensated so that people understood him better.

Floyd jumped first, no fear of heights, followed by Digger not wanting to be outdone by the assassin. Katana was next, determined to keep an eye on Digger as she never trusted him enough, thinking he would bolt any chance he got. Flag looked between those left. Harley, Croc and Red hood. He gave them a curt nod before jumping and then she nudged Croc. He was hesitant, his steps small and she pictured him curling up into a ball in her mind. She grinned, the sight of the overgrown, intimidating man huddled like a child over something as silly as heights funny to her. Harley took his hand, dragging him to the opening and before he got the chance to think, she dug the front of her foot down and shoved. He didn’t move far, but he lost his balance and tumbled out. He would probably want to rip her to pieces for the move but she wasn’t really wanting to be in the plane if it got shot down. Harley looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the last one left, Red hood, before opening her arms and falling backwards.

The wind flew past her, her pig tails pulled by the force of her falling and she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment. It reminded her of that night, when she became Harley, when she had made a promise to the love of her life. She could still picture it as vividly as it had happened but then something came forward in her mind, something she tried but couldn’t push away. That small moment when she had looked up at him, his blue eyes watching her as she fell and then the back of his head as he had walked away. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperate to shake the doubt, the fear. What would he do when he saw her? When she explained everything? Would he turn from her like he had done that night and this time make the decision not to come back? Harley wasn’t sure if it was her mind spinning, or the fact that she was falling uncontrolled through the air but she couldn’t unfreeze herself, her mind trapped in a loop she had become so accustomed to. Her nails dug into her palms, tears falling no matter how hard she tried to fight them off. Her Puddin’, Her Mistah J, he had seen something worth his time that night but now, when she had lost something that could have been precious to both of them, would he still consider her worth it?

“Idiot!” a voice yelled out close to her and then she felt herself jerk upwards. The sound of her shoot opening broke her from her thoughts and she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Harley looked over to find who had pulled her shoot, only to be surprised to see Red Hood the closest and she quickly turned away. If it was anyone else she would have thanked them, would have told them that she owed them one but not him, never him; not when he had a bullseye on her Puddin’. Further down she saw the others manoeuvre towards the park as the plane had dropped them quite far out. They were high enough that they could scrape over the buildings but with her shoot being pulled late it would be a bit harder for her. Still, Harley wasn’t one to back down and she managed the task, only scraping one or two buildings as she admired her reflection in the windows as she passed. When she reached the park though she cursed Flag; the prick had never told them how to land. She braced, keeping her legs bent to stop the jarring of them impact to no avail and when she hit the ground she felt them fall under her, causing her to roll and be caught in the ropes. She kept rolling, arms tucked in, material tangling in a constricting manner and she wished she would stop as it was getting tighter and tighter. Eventually she did. Out of breath and starting to panic she yelled out, hoping she wasn’t far from the others as she realised how exposed she was; if someone was in the park she was like a freshly wrapped burrito waiting to be munched on.

“I got you,” it was Croc. She could tell by his deep, reptilian like growl and when the material around her ripped she smiled widely, happy he wasn’t angry at her for pushing him out of the plane.

“Aw Croc,” she beamed, wriggling herself out of the tangled mess, “My hero!”

“What the hell were you doing!” Harley’s face dropped, her attention drawn to the red mask storming towards her, “Do you have a death wish?”

“For your information,” Harley sneered, eyes narrowing as he got closer, “I was thinkin’ about all the ways I could kick your ass.”

“Cute,” he had his gun out now, pressing against her head, finger already on the trigger, “If you wanted to die clown, all you had to do was ask.”

“You would like that wouldn’t you,” Harley bit back, “Go on big man, make Batsy proud, do what he can’t.”

“Don’t tempt me,” his voice was low but there was a hesitation in it that made her swipe his hand away and saunter past him.

“Maybe you’re more like the Bat then I thought,” she called over her shoulder, “All brawn but no balls.”

He didn’t bite back, didn’t reply but she knew he was watching her and that there was some other reason he didn’t pull the trigger. He wanted to, she knew he did because his hand had been steady, his finger a fraction off actually putting a bullet between her eyes. He didn’t have to save her from her freefall either, but he had and Harley found it disturbing. It meant he had a plan, one other than the one Waller had assigned them. It was personal, something to do with her Puddin’ and she was a factor in it. What though she couldn’t pin point. He didn’t have to be in their little team, their ittle suicide squad if he wanted her Mistah J. To go this far was unnerving. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head. The handle of her bat rested there, Croc on the other end and she was grateful it hadn’t been lost. She preferred her mallet of course, but that was with her Mistah J, left beside the bed and waiting for her to come back and claim it.

“Alright, now that were all here,” Flag waved them over, pointing to a map he had rolled out on the grass, “This is our first target, Wayne Tower.”

“Isn’t that the most dangerous one?” Floyd pointed out, crouched down and pointing to Crime Alley, “This one would be better, knock out the least dangerous than work our way up.”

No,” Flag looked to him, “We hit Wayne Tower together then we split into teams to search the easier ones.”

“Hold up,” Digger spoke up, “No one said anything about splitting up.”

“It’s the best way to cover the most ground,” Flag pointed to other positions on the map, “This isn’t like Midway, we’re not facing a horde of monsters that take a few bullets to put down. There are civilians around to. The smaller the groups, the quicker we move without drawing attention.”

“Dammit,” Floyd growled out, “He’s right.”

“Deadshot, Croc, you two are with Red Hood in Crime Alley, that’s where we suspect are the most dangerous and since you’ll be well known in the area, there is less chance of a confrontation. Katana, Digger, you’ve got Diamond district, since you aren’t known in Gotham you’ll cause less of a panic if spotted, plus people won’t question why you’re wandering around if you’re supposed to be locked up,” he didn’t mention anything about Harley or him, letting the others figure out they would be paired together to take out the last destination, “Once you’re done, come back here. If you find weapon X, radio and we will all head in that direction instead for extraction.”

“Makes sense,” Harley jumped up from her crossed legged state she had sat herself in. She reached up, stretching quickly then swung her bat to her shoulder, “Let’s go find this weapon X and be home for dessert.”

“You’re thinking of dessert at a time like this?” Floyd shook his head and she pictured the pained look on his face.

“Sure, why not. The last time we did this she gave us some perks right? So why can’t we ask for dessert once a week, like ice cream, or jelly, or, or…,” she was bouncing on her toes, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she tried to think of something else.

“Cake,” Digger joined in, “With a big, fat, thank you written on top.”

“Yeah!” Harley pointed at him, “Like that!”

“Just try not get yourselves killed,” Flag groaned, checking his weapon to make sure it hadn’t been damaged in the landing.

“Aye, aye, captain sir!” Harley gave him a two finger salute, clicking the heels of her boots together, “Harley Quinn, ready to move out sir!”

“Harley,” the military based man gave her a sideways glance, “Don’t vex me, I won’t hesitate to push that button.”

“Naw Flag,” Harley winked, “We both know you won’t, well, not yet anyway,” she began walking out of the park, towards the tall, shinning building in the centre of Gotham. The large W, a beacon of hope to those wanting a better future. She wondered which one of the Bat Family was up there. Surely it would have to be one of the important ones. Batman had favourites she guessed, like the first Bird Brain, or would it be Bat girl, even though she had been out of sight and out of mind for a long time; probably retired after getting sick of working for the brooding dark knight. Harley hummed to herself, looking to the clouded over sky as she thought. She didn’t think she’d like working alongside Batman. He seemed grumpy, boring, ridged in rules and routine. Nothing like her Mistah J who made things bright a fun. Hell, even the squad was better, at least they knew how to have a laugh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is short guys! The next chapter I plan it to be quite a bit longer but i do hope you've enjoyed this one!


	4. Chapter 4

The streets were empty with the exception of a stray vagrant, shuffling through back alley dumpsters for cigarette stubs or slightly moulded food thrown out by the building’s occupants. Mewling could be heard from feral cats, a bottle tipping in an odd corner. Harley felt right at home, her head up, bat behind for it to rest on as she looked up at the smog covered sky. There were no stars tonight, there very rarely were in Gotham due to the pollution of the light. She could see the moon though, the curve of its crescent peeking out from behind a cloud. The light shine of it made her skin almost translucent, the bleached state of it making her blue veins stand out more in certain areas like the wrist of her hands. Gotham wasn’t for everyone, you had to be hard skinned to live in a city like it but for Harley…for Harley it was perfect. A city on the brink of insanity, one push and it could tumble into the darkness it had been flirting with ever since the first building broke ground.

“What in the world is that!” Digger pointed to an intersection further ahead of them where dark shapes could be seen, but thanks to the power outage, unable to make out. Harley paused in her step, lowering her bat and tapping it on the side of her boot.

“Bodies,” Floyd commented, flicking his scope down and twisting it to adjust it, “A lot of them.”

“Seems like we missed a party,” Harley laughed. She was used to bodies, living and dead. A bunch in the middle of the road wouldn’t phase her, “Should we check it out?”

“No,” Flag looked at them, “They aren’t our concern,” Harley sighed, feeling like a toy had been taken away from her but they had to pass through that way so she would still be able to get a look.

“Jesus Christ!” Digger yelled out when they came across the first one, “What’s wrong with their faces!”

“Oh,” Harley leant down, jabbing the body to make sure the person was well and truly dead. She looked to the woman’s face, knowing immediately what Digger was talking about. It was her Puddin’ having fun alright. The woman’s lips were pulled to the sides of her face, her perfect teeth from expert dental care clenched together. Her eyes were wide, grimaced in pain and tear streaked paths cut through her make up. It wasn’t anything new to Harley so she wasn’t shocked, but she didn’t feel any remorse for the woman either.

“It’s the clown,” Red hood put a hand on her shoulder, shoving her away from the body, “Get away from her.”

“Hey!” Harley had her hands splayed behind her to stop her from toppling backwards fully, “Is that anyway to treat a lady?”

“Shut up,” Red Hood stood between her and the corpse, eyeing her through his mask and she knew he was angry, “Her blood, all of their blood,” he motioned behind him, to the group of about twenty people all in the same condition, “Is on your hands just as much as his.”

“Hey!” Harley jumped up, growing more offended by the second. She took pride in her crimes and she wasn’t about to take the credit for Mistah J’s work like that, “I wasn’t even in the damn city when this happened!”

“So?” he took a step towards her, “If you hadn’t run back to Waller, begging her to take you back, you _would_ be a big part of helping this shit play out.”

“So what?” Harley growled, “I’m a criminal.”

“A criminal,” the man towered over her, his shoulders wider and shadowing her in an attempt to intimidate the small blonde, “Is a thief, a low life, a person forced into a desperate situation.”

“Yeah?” Harleys grip on her bat tightened, ready and waiting for him to make a move, “You think criminal is to below me then? Got a better, fancier word for someone like me?”

“You clown, are just a deranged, twisted side kick to a murdering sociopath,” his hand went to her shoulder, pushing her again and Harley stumbled slightly but stood her ground, “You aren’t even capable of thinking for yourself,” he shoved her harder and she looked around for help, wondering if anyone, particularly Flag was going to step in but their focus was on the bodies. They looked disgusted, “You’re just a toy. A broken, discarded toy that Joker kept around for a cheap laugh and something to hit.”

“Stop it,” Harley shrunk into herself, his words stinging but he didn’t stop. He kept talking, kept belittling her and she didn’t even have her anger at him anymore to lift her bat and give him a good whack.

“That’s why,” he hissed, “When you lost that demon spawn of his,” she blinked, looking up at him in shock, “You ran, because you knew you were too damaged, even for him.”

“That’s enough,” Flag finally stepped in, putting himself between Harley who had dropped her bat in favour of cradling her arms around herself, her head down and looking at her shoes and the grimy ground below them, “You went too far Red Hood.”

“Too far?” the agitated man pointed behind him, “That,” he seethed, “Is too far and this little, jumped up, nut job was looking at it like it was a god damn Christmas.”

“Look,” Flag grounded out, “I get that you don’t like working with this lot. I didn’t like it much at first either but we need them, and if we’re going to get this shit show of a mission done, you need give them some slack…especially Harley, or you’ll find the next few hours the longest hours of your life.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything more, but he did look past Flag, towards Harley again and she flinched, holding back the small sniffle building in her nose. She hated that he got under her skin, that he made her feel so small, so weak, but he had hit her insecurities dead on and threw them out in the open without a care. She looked around to the others. Digger was kicking a plastic bag, whistling and looking anywhere but her. Katana, she was the same, head up, strong, ready for anything but in her eyes Harley saw sympathy and she couldn’t help but sneer back. She didn’t need sympathy, not from her, from any of them. Floyd, he had taken his mask off, his hand running back and forth over the top of his head before he dragged it down his face. He walked towards her, putting a hand on her shoulder and she peered up at him.

“Don’t listen to him, Dollface,” he forced out, completely awkward, “Guy’s a dick, doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I’m not your daughter,” Harley threw his hand off her, her defence mechanisms kicking in, “I don’t need some…some fatherly advice on how to handle the playground bully.”

“Harls,” he looked like he wanted to say something else, to address what Red Hood had so carelessly exposed about her.

“Don’t,” Harley pushed past him, angry, fuming, wanting to burn the whole world down.

They walked the rest of the street, ignoring the trail of similar bodies on the path to Wayne tower. Harley was in front, her back up, ready for another scathing, verbal attack from the hired gun. He had her on edge now. She could handle a physical hit. She had enough practice at it when her Puddin’ went over that line when she screwed up something big. She knew how to pick herself back up, to ignoring the sharp pain, the stinging. Words though. That wasn’t something she could ignore right now. She had a crack in her armour and words only feed the ugly demons that taunted her whenever her mind went to that place, to her loss. Harley wanted to scream, to yell, to ask why. Why she was so upset over something she had resigned so long ago, over something she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to have in the first place. A kid. It was a stupid notion, a selfish notion. What had she expected? The white picket fence? The big house with an eight stove burner and an over large enough to fit a thanksgiving roast? Ever since that session with Joan she had made peace with the fact she wasn’t going to have that life, that she wasn’t going to be someone’s wife, especially not her Puddin’s. That just wasn’t how things went for people like her. She would be okay with what she got, was given. The affection when she did something right, the dresses, the booze, the thrill of a midnight raid and the uncertainty. She had thrown the dreams of every little girl away for something more, something better and Harley knew she was okay with that. So why? Why could she not move past this like everything else?

“Harley!” she was lost in thought, her mind picking apart her chaotic thoughts when she was thrown to the ground, pushed behind a car being riddled with bullets. She gasped, a piece of glass slicing into her forearm and she couldn’t stop the yelp escaping from her lips.

“You know,” she cringed pulling the glass out and throwing it aside, “I’m all up for surprise parties but that was just rude.”

“This isn’t right,” Floyd had covered her, pushing her out of harm’s way and she watched as he peered out. The others were hiding behind cover as well, discussing their options, “Those are Two-faces men.”

“Well what do ya know,” Harley snorted, “Mistah J changed his mind.” Joker didn’t like working with the other rouges and in return they didn’t like working with him. Trust was the main factor in it. Joker didn’t trust anyone, well, with the exception of Harley but even then that could be stretched. The others, like Two-face, they had learnt the hard way what it meant to work with Joker. He expected loyalty from others but they should never expect it back from him. He would turn on them in two seconds flat if he was bored and looking for some fun.

“Harley,” Floyd looked to her, “Think about it,” he sat down, fixing his weapons and making sure they wouldn’t fail on him, “This isn't adding up. You know Joker, you know when it comes to a game this big he would hate if anyone got between him and the Bat.”

“He has exceptions,” Harley shrugged, grabbing her own gun out from its holster, “And this seems pretty big so calling on the others isn’t that abnormal.”

“But Two-Face?” Floyd stood up, shooting quickly before going for cover again, “The guy hates him.”

“He hates _one_ of them,” Harley giggled, “Dent’s a bit of a bore but the other one,” she tapped the side of her face, the side which would be disfigured on the ex-district attorney, “That guy can be a real laugh.”

“Working with Two-Face over a weapon?” he stood up again, his shots being defend by numerous weapons being let off. Harley looked to Croc who was pulling sewer cover up in front of him and she watched him disappear. Flag was watching cautiously but Harley knew there was another one right under the feet of Two-Face’s men considering she had traipsed the sewers enough in her life time. She guessed it was their job to keep them distracted until Croc could get in there so she joined in. Firing wildly into the group. She could have aimed properly but she needed to release some tension, “Dollface, if you know anything,” Floyd sat back down once the yells of men yelled out and the sound of flesh ripping could be heard. Harley ignored it. She wasn’t a big fan of gore. The blood was messy, outfit ruining really and with Croc’s track record it was best she stayed out of the way to keep herself clean.

“I know a lot,” Harley winked at him, “You’re goin’ to have to be more specific.”

“Is this really the time to play games?” he growled back, “What did Waller want?”

“Oh, just a chat, you know, between girls,” Harley chuckled, enjoying riling him up as she knew he hated going into a situation blind, “Alright, alright,” she sighed, “I’ll talk.”

“Do it quick. Flag will have us moving soon,” he looked over to the other group, still huddled together and keeping an eye on the unfolding, gruesome screen being played out at the foot of Wayne tower.

“There’s a weapon alright,” Harley smiled, “But we ain’t here for that,” she leant forward, curling her finger at him and knowing she would get a kick out his reaction, “Word is Floyd, we’re on a rescue mission.”

“Why didn’t Waller just say that,” the assassin growled out, not moving away. Harley giggled, the words about to spill out as if she was a five-year-old about to ruin a surprise party.

“We’re goin’ to save the Bat family,” she pulled back, eyes bright, alight and excited.

“You better be kidding me,” he growled out, clearly not impressed.

“No-pe,” she popped the p like it was bubble gum, “We’re going to bust into the buildings and snatch out all the little lost rodents before the places go boom.”

“And the weapon?” the man was clearly not impressed. His shoulders were back, like the ears on a cat when they were ready to swipe and his voice was low, angry.

“Well…,” Harley looked over to Flag, “That’s my job I guess. Thanks to Red, my Puddin’s gas has no effect on me.”

“Then why don’t we have gas masks,” he shot back, “Waller’s trusting you to disarm it? Why would you ruin Joker’s plans?”

“I have my reasons,” Harley huffed, “And if you didn’t notice,” she pointed to a body behind them, “Mistah J’s gas has left a sheen on those bodies, meaning if that shit gets on your skin in high concentrations you’ll be six feet under and saying hi to gramps in under a minute.”

“How do you know that?” he was surprised and she laughed; he wasn’t the first one to underestimate her and he wouldn’t be the last.

“I was there when he tested it,” she stood up, brushing herself down and reloading her gun, “Date night.”

“Deadshot, Harley, get over here!” Flag yelled at them, his eyes narrowed as he held his rifle in front of him. Harley looked to Deadshot, putting her finger to her lips with a coy smile.

“Don’t go tellin’ the others alright,” she chuckled, pointing to her neck, “I don’t trust Waller not to blow one of us to bit’s if she thinks we’re goin’ to leave whoever is in there to die.”

“They’re going to find out anyway,” Floyd grunted, “Why delay it?”

“Aw, come on!” Harley threw her head back, “Don’t you wanna see their shocked faces when they find out Waller played us again?”

“This isn’t a joke, Harley,” he stared at her, ignoring Flag waiting for them, “Everyone is already on edge with you considering the last time Joker showed up you bailed on us.”

“You can trust me,” she ground out, “I got shit at stake here to.”

“Good,” he nodded, “Because my daughter’s in this city and I need to know I can count on you not to fuck this up.”

Harley followed behind him, her eyes on his back and lip pulled between her teeth. She didn’t think of that. It was easy to forget that they all had a life outside of Waller’s prison of freaks. Floyd was the only one with a kid though; a kid that could easily be caught up in the chaos that was plaguing Gotham tonight if she stepped foot out of her house. Harley thought back to the bomb, sitting somewhere in Amusement mile. She turned her head towards the direction, peering with squinted eyes and she could faintly see the outline of a lit up Ferris wheel. She sucked her breath between her teeth, knowing exactly where the photo had been taken and she wanted to hit herself in the head for being so naïve. Her Puddin was probably there, waiting for Batman to make his appearance where he had absolute control over everything in the area to give him the best advantage. Harley looked to Floyd, kicking herself for telling him what her role was in all of this. She’d disarm it of course, she knew Waller’s threat was real, but she also knew Red Hood had something else up his sleeve and if Floyd let it slip she knew where the actual bomb was then she doubted he would be happy heading to Crime Alley with Floyd and Croc. He had no bomb in his neck, nothing to keep him on his incentive. If he wanted to tag along with her and Flag he could, and that would mean Harley would lead him right to Mistah J.

……………………………..

Joker looked out to the empty dance floor. No one was here tonight, not with everything going on. He quirked his lips to the side, his brow down as he sneered. Someone was playing a big game, keeping all of Gotham on its toes and Joker had to hand it to whoever was behind it. It was well thought out, expertly executed, something he would have done. He lifted the bottle he was holding to his mouth, taking a swig while Jonny stood next to him, keeping him updated on the night’s events. He laughed, throwing his head back when he thought of all the little rats scrambling to get out of the city, only to find all the exits blocked off, well, all except a long swim in the channel which none of them were fit enough, nor brave enough to attempt.

A part of him hated whoever was screwing with his city, hated that he hadn’t thought of it, that he wasn’t at the top of his game. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew the Bat was out of town, off fighting with that pathetic group of heroes attempting to bring ‘Justice’ to the world. He let out another bark of laughter at the thought of it. A group of jumped up goody two shoes meddling where they shouldn’t. He had pondered ways to derail the group, to bring the Dark knight back to the city so that he could put his own plan in place. He had a score to settle with the over grown vigilante. He had taken something from him, from his Harley girl. It was only fair he lost a brat of his to. Well, another one.

His mind wandered to the kid he had beaten down. The boy meeting the end of a crow bar he had found lying around. He hadn’t planned on killing the kid. Well, he had. But he hadn’t a _ctually_ planned it. The kid had practically fallen into his lap and who was he to pass up an opportunity to ruffle a few feathers. It was the Bat’s fault for getting others involved, for suiting up a teenaged brat who dreamed of playing hero. There were consequences to every action, and in that case the consequence had been a baby bird falling out of the nest and ending up dead on the ground. Batman really should have known better, or stuck with the original Bird Brain. Now that kid, that kid was a pain in the ass but Joker had to hand it to him, he knew how to stay alive.

“Boss,” Jonny was looking at his phone, his face creased and he looked pale, “Boss,” he tried again, “You ain’t going to like this.”

“Spit it out, Frost,” Joker snapped, annoyed with the overgrown ape. How long had Jonny been with him now? A decade? Hell, the man had even survived that helicopter crash thanks to his quick thinking. Resourceful. That’s what Jonny was and Joker like to keep resourceful people around.

“Whoever stole your gas from the warehouse just used it,” he snatched the phone off Jonny, watching the news report on the small screen in growing anger. It was his gas alright, his new one he had been working and planning to use on the first Boy Blunder when big bad Batsy came back into town. It was his baby, a new concoction that combined his liquid version with the gas version. When inhaled it worked slow, but if it got on the skin, man did that baby sink in a cause havoc.

“When?” he growled out, “When was this taken.”

“Five minutes ago, down by Wayne tower,” he threw the phone back to Jonny, settling back into his seat. It seemed someone was calling him out. No one went this far to turn a city upside down just to pin it on someone else. No. This was a challenge, an invitation to come out and play, “What do you want to do boss?”

“Wait,” he replied, taking another swig of the bottle, “Let’s see what the game is first before we decide to play.”


	5. Chapter 5

Floyd Lawton considered himself a simple man. He was hardened of course, he had to be in his line of work but he cared when it mattered. In the grand scheme of things, he enjoyed what he did; the only thing about his life that he could consider difficult would be the complexity of his job but after years, even that was a matter of equations he could do in a matter of minutes. Before the squad, his life had been pretty linear. Get a job, do the job, get the money then either save the cash or spend it on his daughter Zoe. Simple, straight forward, emotionless. The ends justified the actions in his mind. What Floyd never expected was Waller. The snake of a woman had out manoeuvred him. Him, Floyd Lawton, aka, Deadshot, the deadliest assassin alive. Give him a mark and he could work out even the smallest window to get the shot off. He would plan, right down to the littlest detail so that a bullet didn’t go stray and it was so well executed that he never, not once missed. That was until he was thrown into the make shift squad and he had ‘missed’ Harley after Waller had ordered the hit. He could have done it; he had wanted to do it. He could have been a free man, could have walked out that city and gone straight. Something had happened though, something he wanted to kick himself for. He felt responsible for the misfit group and Waller had given him something to be proud of. They had saved the world, even though no one knew it, they did and for all the shit things he had done in his life, he had made the right choice for once.

That feeling of responsibility, that only grew over each mission and in his mind he had slapped on the badge of leader. They were a pack of unruly kids, and him the dad keeping them in line. It was stupid, he knew it was, he had spent years keeping a distance from anyone but Zoe after his bitch of an ex screwed him over but the group of criminals had grown on him and even if he tried to shake them he just couldn’t. Sure he wasn't getting paid, but the slow reduction of his sentence meant something and he did get to see Zoe on the odd occasion. He still didn’t like the arrangement and at some point he was planning on gunning his way through Belle Reeve and escaping but for now he was content; the ‘good deeds’ that Waller sent them on filling a place in him that he didn’t know need filling. He told himself that it was for Zoe, that he, in his own mind, could look her in the eye and have her be proud of him.

Being in Gotham he had that itch. The one that never went away being locked up in a cell. No matter how many times he had convinced himself he was alright with the situation that scratch in the back of his mind was there. The scratch of a caged man wanting to be free. It was a niggling, a consistent reminder that whispered 'kept pet’ over and over. Sometimes at night the itch would wake him up and he would wail on his beat up boxing bag until he was too exhausted to think anymore. Other times it caused him to fight with Digger. In Gotham though, his feet on the ground he considered home, it wasn’t a niggle, it was a full on instinct to shoot the small group and take off. Waller would blow his head off before that happened of course but the intent was there.

He looked around the group, ignoring the squelching evidence of Croc’s massacre under his feet as they reached the entrance to Wayne Tower. Even though the lights were on, the building was on lock down, sealed up tight and it was obvious Two-Face's men were in the middle of trying to get in if the C4 stuck to the reinforced door was anything to go by. Flag and Red Hood were at the key pad, inspecting it, Digger was picking the pockets of mangled torsos with Katana watching him carefully, Croc was resting on the wall while he took a moment for himself and Harley…Harley was looking back over her shoulder to the bodies further down the road, a distant, glazed look in her eyes.

Harley coming back had been a surprise. He thought that was it, that she was out with all the effort Joker had gone to break her out. Floyd had expected the clown to keep her close but when she had turned up, forced smile on her face and not a bruise on her to indicate a tussle with The Bat, he knew something was off. Harley, she just hadn’t been herself. Her jokes fell flat, her smile never reached her eyes and her annoying, bubby nature just wasn’t there. She tried to act her normal self, tried to push aside whatever it had been tormenting her but Floyd knew the look of a broken woman when he saw one. It was the same look when his ex-wife had given up on their relationship, the fight to continue on gone. Floyd didn’t push it though. Whatever was going on with Harley was her business and even though he was the unofficial leader of their merry band of misfits he wasn’t going to pry into her personal business. At the end of the day, it was still everyone for themselves and their baggage was their baggage.

Red Hood though, that mercenary playing criminal, he had busted that wide open when he dropped her secret like it was nothing. Sure Floyd in his spare time had made a few assumptions, the leading one that Harley had just gotten sick of being with the green haired sociopath but that? Even to Floyd the idea was so ridiculous that it hadn’t crossed his mind once. It was Harley, Harley Quinn, girlfriend of Joker and the squads token looney toon. Her having a kid just didn’t fit right and he was pretty sure she knew that to. Floyd knew the consequences of having a kid in their line of work and compared to Harley’s life his was closer to white picket fence than criminal. That didn’t change the fact though that Harley _had_ been pregnant and at some point lost it, leading her to return to Waller completely off her game. Looking at her now, it wasn’t hard to see that it had affected her on a level she didn’t even understand. At points she seemed like her normal self, bantering when she saw fit but in an instant she would turn on them like a cornered, wounded animal. He had seen the same thing happen in Midtown but this time…it was like they were wading through a pit of grenades and trying to avoid pulling a pin along the way.

“Hey!” Digger yelled out, jumping back with a bewildered expression. Flag and Red Hood looked to the Australian in annoyance, seeing no immediate threat but Floyd saw what was wrong. One of the men Croc had taken out wasn’t dead and he had grasped onto Digger as he tried to relieve the man of his wallet.

Floyd went over, crouching down in front of the man and wanting some answers. Something about the whole situation just didn’t feel right to him one bit. It felt like someone was toying with them, someone that wasn’t Waller. He was used to the woman pulling the strings by now, giving him only the minimum information but the information that she had given them this time felt completely off all together and combining with what Harley knew, it only made it worse.

“Oi,” Floyd dropped his voice to a whisper as he carefully pressed his wrist magnum to the man’s head, “What were you doing here?”

“We got a message,” the man groaned out, no regards for loyalty whatsoever in the face of his death. Floyd knew the man was already on deaths door but he wasn’t going to let him know that and ruin his leverage, “Saying that there was a weapon in there.”

“Who sent you the message?” Floyd dug the weapon in harder.

“We don’t know,” the man coughed, “Two-Face…he sent us, said if we didn’t get it our heads were on the chopping block.”

“What about them?” he nudged his head to Joker’s casualties. The man was getting paler as the seconds went by.

“Black mask's guys,” he replied, his voice rasping as he sucked in much needed air, “Joker got to them before we did, we thought the clown had the weapon but the place was still sealed up tight.”

“Did you see Joker do it?” the man’s head dropped, the blood loss to much and Floyd sighed. He was right but there was still a giant question mark in regards to Joker’s involvement. If the message was from Joker, why would he gas only Black Mask’s guys? Why not Two-Faces as well? There was also the fact that Harley was under the impression it was one of the Bat Family in the building, not a weapon, so if Joker was orchestrating this, why would he send two groups to break in to finish the person inside off? From what Floyd understood, anything to do with the Bat, including his family, was personal so there was no way he would let Two-Face or Black mask finish one of them off. Nothing was fitting together.

“Ohhh,” Harley was beside him, pointing to the door, “Looks like the Merc came in handy after all,” Harley didn’t sound impressed, more irritated and he understood why. If Red Hood was resourceful it meant they would have to rely on him more than they wanted to.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Floyd grunted, standing up and choosing his custom AR-15. It probably wasn’t the best in such a compact environment but they had no idea what they were walking into and he would rather have his old faithful in his hands over anything else in his arsenal. “Stick close to me, Harley,” he looked to her sideways, concerned with how unhinged she was at the moment. She was unpredictable normally but from what he had seen so far, she wasn’t in control of herself which was dangerous. If she was by him he could keep her in line and he didn’t trust Red Hood not to claim ‘friendly fire’ like their last mission.

………………………………….

The place was quiet. Considering that during the day it was amassed with all types of workers from the top dogs of Wayne Enterprises to the intern stuck on mail duty, Wayne Tower felt pretty lifeless. It made Harley look around, wondering what would have happened during the day if she and her Puddin’ decided to have a bit of fun with the place. Would the workers scurry to the exits at the sound of the first shot? Would they hide under their desks, mobiles in hand with the cops already on the line? Would there be that one, self-righteous idiot that always, without fail, try and stop them single handily? She chuckled at the thought of it, of the chaos that could be caused with a few rounds of bullets. Surely Wayne Tower had some goodies her Puddin’ could use? They were after all a leader in the technological field. Not really her Puddin’s thing, but she was certain he could tinker around with it and make whatever they could find his own. Then there was Bruce Wayne. Oh how her Puddin’ loved to mess with the upper elite and when it came to Gotham, Bruce Wayne was the top of the top. He was…boring though in the bigger picture. The typical rich boy socialite, throwing money on expensive cars and what Harley assumed to be escorts. She couldn’t help but let a snort slip. Bruce Wayne and escorts? Now that was a funny idea. The man was loaded, good looking and had enough arrogance for an entire frat house. He would never have to hire an escort when he had woman falling at his feet wherever he went. Except for her that is. He had been so surprised when she had turned him down that day in the bar.

“Harley,” she turned her attention to Flag who had his eyes narrowed, “I want you to stick with the group, no running off to the elevator by yourself like Midway.”

“Well damn,” she pouted, “I’m gettin’ real sick of you treating me like I’m some kind of kid with poor impulse control.”

“You do have poor impulse control,” Flag snapped back, clearly on edge, “Stay with the group, that’s an order.”

“Sir, yes sir!” she snarled out sarcastically. He really needed to lighten up. The building was practically deserted.

“We'll go floor by floor until we find the one we’re looking for,” Flag addressed them, “You see something, you give a shout.”

“Top floor,” Harley stated, already bored with how things were going.

“What?” Flag looked at her, eyebrows raised, “How do you know that?”

“Because,” she went to the desk behind him where a small screen was set up, flickering to static every now and then, “That looks like some big, fancy office someone like Bruce Wayne would have and that,” she jabbed her finger at the screen, “Is the first Boy Blunder if I’m not mistaken.”

“Fuck,” Flag looked to the screen, noting that she was right, “Alright, change of plans, we’ll take the elevator to a few floors below then take the stairs. If there’s anyone waiting for us, I’d prefer we weren’t shooting practice when those doors open.”

“Hang on here,” Digger spoke up, his tone high pitched and everyone knew what was coming, “I thought we were here to look for some weapon.”

“We are,” Flag snapped.

“Then what are we doing getting involved in all,” he waved his hand around in a flailing motion, “That.”

“Waller's orders,” the solider ground out, “We find hostages, we get them out.”

“I didn’t hear anything about hostages,” Digger turned to the rest of the group, “Did you lot?”

“No,” Croc grunted, the left side of his lip curled up into a sneer, “And I ain’t helping no Robin.”

“Aw come on guys!” Harley jumped up onto the counter and put her elbow on the TV, “Don’t you wanna see boy blunders face when he sees it’s us rescuin’ him?”

“Nah,” Digger laughed, “I’m good.”

“Seriously!” her blonde pigtails shook side to side as she swung her head, “You’re honestly tellin’ me that you wouldn’t get a kick outta holding this over his head forever? That he, Nightwing, the first Robin and Batsy pride a joy, had to get help from us.”

“Well,” Floyd pulled the bolt back on his rifle, getting prepared and she could tell he was eager, “When you put it that way.”

“See!” she jumped on the counter, growing excited, “Floyd gets it!”

“Alright, alright,” Digger put his hands up, his head down in submission, “I get where you’re going with this Craziness. A bruised ego is probably far worse than death for a chump like that.”

“Exactly!” she jumped off the counter, bouncing on her feet already picturing Nightwing’s face in her mind. Oh. She was going to have so, _so_ , much fun with this. He was never going to live it down, “What are you all lookin’ at me for still?” she frowned, hands on hips, “You heard Flag, move it!”

They went to the first elevator, weapons ready and apprehensive. Harley pulled out her hand gun, her eyes roving over the detail. She remembered when Mistah J had given it to her. It had been their anniversary. She had thought he had forgotten because he had been so wrapped up in his plans that not once that day did he look in her direction. Even when she had made his favourite breakfast, wearing her red nightgown that was his favourite on her. That nightgown, it had never failed her but that morning it had and she had slunk upstairs in defeat. She had told herself that it was okay, that he was just busy but as the day had gone on he still hadn’t left his study. That was until she had come down stairs for dinner to find the place deserted of the usual gang and no one expect him, her and a red and black box on the kitchen table.

“Harley,” fingers were clicked in her face and she blinked, snapping out of her memory and looked to Floyd, “This is not the time for day dreaming, Dollface.”

“Right,” she nodded, her eyes hardening, “Bird brain to save, got it,” he looked wary, concerned but she knew the stakes and she had a plan. Save the brat, partner up with Flag, save Gotham and then find a way to get to her Puddin’ before Red Hood did without getting her head separated from her neck by Waller. Simple.

The elevator dinged, Flag, Floyd and Red Hood were in front, guns raised to eye level and ready to shoot. They stepped out slowly, weapons still in position as they surveyed the area. It was clear but Harley couldn’t help but notice something didn’t fit right in the room. There were wires in the corners of the room, red, blue and green. They could be anything really, but they were put through a hole in the ceiling and the floor and she had a sinking feeling they weren’t supposed to be there. She didn’t get the chance to speak up though because Flag was already moving them on, towards the emergency exit and she shrugged. She was probably just over thinking it since everything was so quiet. She followed the group, trailing behind knowing that until they got into a bigger space her hand gun wasn’t much compared to the heavy weapons the others were carrying. Digger and Croc stayed back with her, letting the others take lead and when shots rang out they pushed themselves against the wall so they could have cover. Croc was a walking target, so he stayed as clear as he could but Harley eyed the railing. The lip for the stairs above weren’t that far with a decent swing and if she got up that meant she could hit whoever was shooting them from behind.

Without warning, she swept forward, putting her foot on the top railing and twisted so that she was now facing the wall. She gave a push, her confidence not failing her and she grabbed onto the lip with ease. Floyd had seen what she had done, moving forward and giving her cover while she pulled herself up. Once she had her footing on the ledge, she vaulted herself over the railing, her legs together and her heels went into the side of one of two men remaining. The man hit the wall, crumbing with the force of the hit and before the other man could spin around to react, Floyd had nailed him, causing him to slump into the railing then fall. Harley looked over the side as he did, letting out a low whistle when he hit the ground.

“Now that,” Harley giggled, “Is what I call a pancake,” she grinned, thinking back to her comment when Flag told them to jump from the plane.

“These men are hired guns,” Red Hood had joined them and in his hand was a set of dog tags, “Military.”

“Anyone you know Flag?” even though they had worked together, there was still a distrust, not of Flag per say but of Waller.

“They're not government,” Flag stated, taking the tags as Red Hood handed them over, “They’re mercs for hire, dishonourable discharges.”

“What the,” Harley grumbled, not happy with more outside involvement. Gotham had the GCPD and Batsy, it didn’t need any piss poor military guys running amuck.

“It happens,” Flag pocketed the tags, “They’re easily recruited by rouge outfits depending on their discharge reasons. Most of the time the target the guys who feel the government screwed them.”

“Well shit,” beside her Floyd laughed and Harley was shocked slightly. Floyd always seemed so…uptight, “Can’t really blame them.”

“Are we doing this or not?” Digger finally joined them, Croc close behind, “Or are you lot gonna keep talking like a pack of nannas in a knitting group?”

“He has a point,” Red Hood commented, “There’s no way we weren’t heard.”

“When did you suddenly become a team player?” Harley hummed, looking over the railing again to see her bat on the steps below where she had left it.

“When it’s convenient,” he replied bluntly.

“Hm,” Harley shrugged sharply, understanding completely. She moved through the group, taking the steps two at a time to get her bat then made her way back to them. They had already taken up position again, Flag at the door, ready to open it with Floyd next to him gun raised. When it slammed open, there were no shots, no movement, just more silence. It seemed there had only been one, small group keeping guard and that was not a good thing. Harley thought back to the wires and she went to speak up, but once again, the group moved before she could. When they entered the office they were greeted by a sight that even shook Harley to her core. The wires made sense now, complete sense, if they had gone floor by floor like Flag had said they would have seen it sooner.

“Shit,” Flag moved quick, going to the numerous monitors on the floor around Nightwing’s feet. The man in question was still, his feet and arms tied behind the chair he was on but he was completely awake and completely aware. He looked surprised to see them, then his face turned into a deep scowl causing his skin to crease around his mask. The blue, bird like emblem on his outfit made Harley scrunch up her nose and she was the first to speak.

“Soooo,” she hummed, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What is this?” he smirked, “Some kind of criminal convention?”

“We,” Harley skipped forward, sitting down on his lap and swinging her hands around his neck, “Are your rescue party, so you better be nice or we might change our minds.”

“I have this completely under control,” he lifted his head in defiance, completely unfazed by how she draped herself over him. Harley and Nightwing had quite a few run in’s and even though she knew he would never admit it, he enjoyed bantering with her just as much as she did with him. Out of all the Bat family, he was her favourite which was funny considering her Puddin’ loathed him the most. He was upbeat, playful and had a quick wit she naturally enjoyed. His fighting style matched hers as well so combined with the creative insults she always enjoyed a show down with him.

“How long have ya been sittin’ here for?” she mussed, tapping him on the nose, “I’m assuming a while since,” she waved her hand to the screens, “If you move its bye bye Wayne Tower.”

“If I can’t figure this out, what makes you think you can?” he bit back, clearly not impressed.

“Me?” Harley threw her head back and laughed, “this is well above my pay grade but that guy,” she pointed to Flag who was now at the wires, his eyes trailing the directions in an attempt to find the main switch, “he might be able to pull it off.”

“Who is he?” Nightwing asked, his voice hopeful and Harley jumped off him to wrap her arm around the soldier.

“That’s a secret,” she winked, “Isn’t it?” she turned to Flag who gave her a warning glare.

“Red Hood,” Flag ignored her and called the mercenary over quickly, “You have any ideas?”

“A few,” the two men worked and Harley positioned herself on the floor, looking from screen to screen. It was the same set up over the eight of them. A timer, sitting on top of a well put together bomb in the middle of the office floors. They were situated on the higher up floors, which meant the if the supports stayed intact it would still be standing. Severely damaged, but standing.

“Will you hurry up,” Nightwing growled out, clearly not happy with the situation and eyeing each one of them. He was well aware he was a sitting duck in a room full of people who would happily kill him within a second. Trusting them was not something he would do easily.

“Hold your horses,” Digger had cracked open another beer, sipping it as he sat on the desk, “Bombs are tricky things you know, one small mistake and bam!” he slammed his can down on the desk, causing them all to jump and Harley feel backwards in hysterics.

“Good one!” she grinned up at the ceiling. Even he had her thinking that the bombs had gone off with that move.

“Digger!” Flag barked, standing up, “Out, now!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Digger laughed, standing up and taking his beer with him, “Don’t worry, I’ll play look out.”

“Katana,” Flag looked to the quiet swordswoman, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything that gets us killed,” she bowed her head, sweeping out of the room after her charge, hand already on her sword in anticipation. Harley knew the woman wouldn’t do it, she had a feeling Katana had a soft spot for the man from down under

“Seriously though,” Floyd was tetchy, it was easy to tell from how his fingers drummed on the side of his weapon, “Are you two able to do it or are we leaving him here and saving our own skins?”

“Got it,” Red Hood clipped the wire and for a brief second no one in the room breathed. They waited, unable to move even if there was somewhere they could go and then in unison they let out their breaths. Harley had no idea how Red Hood had figured it out so quickly, but once again she hated the fact that they had needed to rely on him.

“There you go,” Harley jumped to her feet, poking her bat into Nightwing’s chest, “Now a thank you would be nice,” Nightwing stood up, loosening the ropes long before they had gotten there. He couldn’t keep the relief off his face and he turned around to face Flag.

“Thanks,” Harley huffed, not happy that he had found some way to avoid thanking them even though they had risked their assess for him.

“Flag,” Floyd was looking down at the screens, eyes wide, “We got a problem.”

“Oh shit,” Harley was the first to bolt. She screamed out of the room and towards the elevator. Digger yelled out after her, wanting to know what was going on but when the others followed close behind he got the hint. The countdown timers had started and they had less than five minutes to get clear of the building. Harley jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, grumbling under her breath and praying to god that he took pity on her just this once. The door opened and she was the first one in, swinging around to the panel on the side, finger already lighting up the ground floor button. The others squished in, all of them with wide, wild eyes and wondering if this was it, if this was their last moments; trapped in an elevator like sardines with people they would rather not know.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Flag muttered under his breath, looking at his watch.

By the time they got downstairs, two minutes had passed and none of them stopped to talk. They bolted out of the building, all of them heading in separate directions in the panic. Harley knew someone was next to her, she could hear them breathing heavily and the pounding of their feet on the pavement mirrored hers. They didn’t stop, not until they heard the large, rippling sound of an explosion and then they slowed down until they stopped. Harley’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide as she watched the giant W of the tower blink out before falling to the darkness below. Harley turned to say something to the person next to her, only to snap her mouth shut close and hold it in. Red Hood had run in the same direction as her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this took me forever to write. I blame stress and lack of direction. I know where i'm taking this story, but getting it there is harder than i thought it would be! Sorry about the long wait everyone!

They stared at each other. Neither saying a word and even though Harley couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was keeping eye contact. She pursed her lips, let out a small huff then turned her head. She wasn’t impressed. This was not where she wanted to be, and Red Hood was definitely not the person she wanted to be with. Her hand clenched around her bat, anticipating the worst and she eyed his own hand as it moved up to his gun holster. Her body stiffened, waiting for him to pull it out, instead it kept moving and to the side of his mask where his ear would be. He pushed on it, then began to speak.

“Waller,” she narrowed her eyes, still cautious, “I’ve got the clown.” She couldn’t hear the response, but the fact that her head was still connected to her neck was a good sign.

He took his hand away and started to walk, brushing past her and she watched him go. She knew she would have to follow him. He was in contact with Waller and if she made one wrong move it was goodbye Harley. She tightened up her pigtails, let out another small huff in frustration and trailed after the man. It was hard staying silent, she wanted to say something that made him bite because it was obvious he held some impulsiveness. Right now though, that wasn’t in her favour and she wasn’t stupid; she knew when to keep her trap shut and this moment was one of those situations.

They walked back towards the way they came, heading towards the rougher side of Gotham and she knew where they were going immediately. If the others had kept together, Flag would have to go with Floyd and Croc, which meant to fix the teams to their original design, they would have to meet up with them in Crime Alley. That also meant they had to back track the way they came and see the damage inflicted on Wayne Tower. It was tense. Each step towards the tower felt heavier than the last one and when glass began to crunch under her feet she paused for a moment. Red Hood continued a bit further, but eventually he realised his were the only footsteps and he turned around.

“What now?” she could tell by his tone that he was annoyed but restraining himself. It was obvious he had worked out that restraint was key in this situation.

“Huh?” she blinked, looking at him with a blank face.

“Look,” he stated, “I don’t want to spend some weird, one and one time with you, and you don’t want that either. So get walking and put us both out of our misery.”

“You want a truce?” she scrunched her nose up.

“You’re scum,” he grounded out, “But Waller seems to think without you, Gotham’s going to go to shit. So, you don’t annoy me, and I won’t blow your head off. Got it?”

“So keep my mouth zipped?” Harley questioned, hand on hip and internally cringing.

“Wow, you’re not as dumb as I thought,” he sounded slightly surprised and Harley barred her teeth. She hated it when people considered her stupid. Yes, she may be a ball of bubbly, fun energy with a psychopathic streak in her but that didn’t mean she was brainless. She had been the only one, ever, to take on Joker and make some progress with him; granted he had turned it on her and made her see that she was on the wrong side of the table but that point was irrelevant.

“I was a psychologist,” she spat, “and considering your vocabulary is a range of childish insults and threats, I’d say I’m a hell’va lot smarter than you.”

“Stupid enough to become Joker’s lap dog,” Harley raised her bat and took a step towards him. He stayed in place, watching her, his hand on the hilt of his gun this time and Harley placed the end of her bat square into his chest.

“What you need to understand,” she sneered, “Is that I ain’t nobody’s lapdog. I do what I do, because I want to, not because my Puddin’ tells me.”

“Waller’s records say otherwise,” his hand came down on the bat, causing it to knock on the ground. Harley’s other had went to her holster, pulling it out and found Red Hood had done the same. They stared down the barrels of each other’s guns, their fingers resting on the triggers.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Harley growled out, “What me and Mistah J got, it’s special and I ain’t goin’ to stand here and have some jumped up, Batman wannabe try and make me feel bad about it.”

“Alright,” he held up his hands, his gun swaying back and forth on his thumb to show the intent was no longer there, “No talk about Joker, deal?”

“Apologise,” Harley cocked her gun.

“I’m sorry I called you a lapdog,” he sighed, his tone dull and saying it just to please her.

“Not about that!” Harley narrowed her eyes, “You…you told everyone…about…,” her voice cracked and her hand began to shake. She didn’t know what had come over her but for some reason she needed Red Hood to acknowledge that he had been wrong.

“Alright, alright,” he put his gun back in its holster, “I crossed a line.”

“That’s it?” she took a deep breath before shaking her head and let out a slow, pained laugh, “You’re all the same,” Harley kept laughing, hating how emotionally stunted so many of the men in her life were, “Every, damn, one of you.”

“Sorry,” it was quiet and Harley almost missed it.

“Apology accepted,” she gave a short, brief nod, put her gun away then swung her bat over her shoulders, “So what are we waitin’ for? Let’s get goin’.” She sauntered past him, happy with how things went and putting it firmly in the back of her mind. Harley was never one to dwell on things and that was enough of a resolution she would get so it was best to move on. Red Hood didn’t say anything either. Just followed behind her quietly, scanning around them for any signs of hostiles. Harley didn’t feel any sense of a threat. This was Gotham, her home, her city. Her and her Mistah J, they knew every back alley, every nook and cranny. If things went wrong Harley could easily find an escape route, hell, she could probably find half a dozen.

“Wait,” Harley paused, stopping abruptly. She turned, much to Red Hood’s dismay from the click of his tongue but she ignored it, narrowing her eyes. Harley held up her hand, telling her unwanted companion to stay where he was; if she was correct she didn’t want the hostile man to make a bad impression. Surprisingly he did as asked, passing off her attention as a brief distraction and allowed her the small inconvenience.

Harley walked forward, keeping her steps light although the glass under her feet still crunched and her heels clipped the ground. It was hard to be stealthy in an environment such as this. She heard it again, the shuffle of something too big to be a stray and followed by a muffled whimper. Harley kept walking, the whimpering mixed with heavy breathing and eventually she stopped to crouch down. She tilted her head to the side, her hand on the top of a moulding cardboard box and Harley smiled gently. Inside was a small girl, barely over seven from the looks of it. She was huddled into herself, her thick winter coat clasped between trembling hands from either being cold or scared, probably even both. What struck Harley though was her blue eyes and straw blonde hair, and for a moment, a brief moment, Harley thought she was looking at a younger version of herself. If it wasn’t for the shined, black dress shoes and the brass buttons on the young girl’s sleeves, Harley would have put it down to a hallucination. The girl looked up at her and tried to shift herself further into the box. There was fear in her eyes as they looked over Harley’s coloured hair, messy make up and signature gun.

“Heya,” Harley grinned, trying to show she meant no harm, “I’m no social worker, but I’m pretty sure you ain’t the kind of kid that’s used to living in a bit of cardboard.”

“Go away,” the girl murmured from behind her red, woollen scarf. Harley shook her head, chuckling.

“No can do kiddo,” she replied, “If I leave you alone, who knows what kinda person you may run into.”

“I’m not stupid,” the girl bit back, “I know who you are.”

“Well,” Harley looked down at herself, “I ain’t goin’ to argue with that, but I still ain’t goin’ to leave you here to fend by yourself.”

“I can look after myself,” for a young girl, she sure had spunk to her and Harley let out a laugh, throwing her head back.

“With an attitude like that I don’t doubt it, but if you haven’t noticed Gotham is a lot shittier than it usually is and even a strong willed brat like yourself needs a bit of help,” Harley poked and held out her hand to her. The girl looked at it, then looked to Harley but didn’t take it, “Look, I ain’t goin’ to hurt ya. As my Mistah J say’s, ain’t worth killn’ someone if it ain’t funny.”

“You…,” the girl’s eyes widened, “You won’t hurt me?”

“Nah,” Harley shrugged, offering her hand again, “Nothin’ funny about knockin’ off a kid. So what do you say? Wanna come with me and we can get you somewhere safe?”

“We?” the girl took her hand, her hesitation showing with how gently she took it and Harley helped her crawl out of the box. Standing up, it was obvious the girl was a bit older than Harley had initially thought. She wasn’t a teenager, but probably early double digits.

“Yip, we,” Harley chuckled and pointed to the street with her free hand, “Got myself a minder tonight to keep me inline so I swear, no funny stuff.”

“A-alright,” the girl’s hand gripped Harley’s tighter and Harley gave it a small, comforting squeeze as she led her over to Red Hood. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head leant back, looking to the sky.

“No,” he stated bluntly, “No way in hell, Clown.”

“What?” Harley growled back, “You want us to just leave this kid in the alley and hope she doesn’t get picked up by some low class crim with no morals?”

“Like your class of scum has morals,” Red Hood shot back, “No strays.”

“She ain’t a stray,” the blonde pointed to the smaller blonde, “See that coat? That ain’t from one of those cheap, fashion chains. It’s quality and probably cost a more than a swimming pool of gummy bears.”

“And?” Red Hood ground out, growing increasingly frustrated, “Let her be the GCPD’s problem.”

“Um,” the girl spoke up, causing both adults to look at her, “The…the GCPD…”

“What about them?” Red Hood grumbled.

“The man,” the girl took a deep breath, looking to Harley who nodded in encouragement, “There was a man talking, on all the radios, he said if there’s any sign of the GCPD he’ll start killing hostages.”

“Hostages?” Red Hood seemed alarmed, “What hostages?”

“The ones at the train station,” the girl was growing more confident as she spoke, “He said that if any officer steps foot out of the police station, the people on the trains will be shot.”

“Makes sense,” Harley shrugged. The trains were a way out of the city and it was the one exit point Waller hadn’t mentioned. If that news had been contained in Gotham itself after the bridges were blown, there would be hundreds of people trapped in the underground system as they were coming home from work, “The tunnels were probably blown at the other end and with one way out, those suckers are packed in tight like a tin of sardines with nowhere to go.”

“I was wondering why no one was interfering,” Red Hood contemplated, “You’d think with the shootout at Wayne Tower and the gas attack, the GCPD would be on the scene when we got there.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Harley laughed, the GCPD always just a blip on her radar. They were pretty useless when it came to her and her Puddin’. They basically just set a perimeter as they played their games, waiting for the big, ugly, bat to save their asses then took all the credit when the cuffs were slapped on.

“Fine,” Red Hood sighed, “Where to kid?”

“The hospital,” the girl’s head dropped and she shuffled her feet. Harley heard her sniffle and she knew immediately something had gone south for her to be left alone like that.

“Somethin’ happen to your parents?” Harley crouched down so that they were eye level, a frown on her lips.

“M-my mom,” the girl raised her arm, wiping her noses gently, “There were these men, they came out of nowhere and told us to go home or they would shoot.”

“Military?” Red Hood questioned, looking down on them both.

“I…I think so,” Harley put her finger under the girl’s chin, giving her a warm smile.

“Chin up,” she stated, “We can’t help ya if you’re blubberin’.”

“People were confused so it took a while for us to move and they…they began to shoot, warning shots at first but one…one hit my mum and she told me to run, so I ran and then there were sirens and people yelling and I saw ambulances…”

“Are…,” Harley paused, not sure how the phrase it and struggling to say what she wanted without coming across too blunt, “Are you sure your mom is at the hospital?”

“N-no,” her blue eyes started watering and before Harley could do anything she started to wail. Red Hood looked uncomfortable, children obviously not his thing and Harley looked to him for help. He shrugged, not sure what to do either, so Harley grabbed the girl and engulfed her into a hug. It was the only thing she could think of and a part of her was grateful she had because it muffled the girls cries. If what the kid had said was the truth, it meant the hired, ex-military thugs they had come across previously was just the start of it.

“Hey, well take you there alright and even if she ain’t there then there are people that can help you find her,” Harley spoke lowly, her voice soft as she tried to calm her.

“Y-you’re going t-to take me t-to the h-hospital?” Harley pulled away, her heart pulling painfully. The girl had seemed so strong before, and now she was just a lost child reaching out for help. It was more than Harley could take and she immediately pulled away to stand up and put distance between them.

“Yip,” Harley bounced, keeping her body moving to distract herself from a feeling she did not like that was compressing on her chest, “Won’t we Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah we will.” Harley looked at him, chuckling and raising a brow in question. It seemed Red Hood wasn’t as hard as he seemed to be. His voice seemed throaty, a slight gravelling in his tone that indicated seeing the girl upset hit a cord in him.

“See,” Harley still kept her distance but her smile was wide to convince the girl it was alright, “With us two helpin’, you’ll get there in no time and I bet old ma has just got a scratch that needs stitchin’.”

………………………

Flag was disorientated, but he managed to keep everyone with him together as they ran from the building. None looked back, to focused on getting to safety, and when he spotted an alley he peeled into it with the others following. They were all panting hard, the adrenaline of the situation forcing their bodies to inhale vaster quantities of oxygen from the air. All of them, with the exception of Digger were up right though, fit and prepared. Digger was crouched, the back of his head resting on the brick wall and eyes closed. His chest was heaving, and his pink unicorn was clutched to his chest. He was grumbling and stringing together a number of explicit words. Flag pulled his eyes away from the man, mildly pleased that he wasn’t hurt and checked over the others quickly. Some of them were covered in dust from when the tower partially collapsed but there was no sign of any of them bleeding. There was an issue though, a big one. Harley was nowhere to be seen and neither was Red Hood. He cursed, grabbed his communicator on his right breast of his tactical vest and began to speak.

 “Waller,” he spoke, “I’ve lost eyes on Quinn and Red Hood.”

 _“I’ve been in contact, Flag,”_ Waller replied bluntly, her disappointment evident, _“He has her, keep on the directive.”_

“The directive is compromised,” Flag hissed back, “Without Q-.”

 _“You are to head to Crime Alley, Harkness and Katana will head to their original location. Red Hood and Harley will meet you at the location,”_ the connection stopped, the conversation over. Waller had given her orders and that was final. Flag took a deep breath in through his mouth before rubbing the top of his head as he processed it all.

“You going to trust him with Harley?” Deadshot spoke up, not impressed in the slightest after what had happened on a previous mission.

“I don’t have a choice,” Flag growled back, “They’re god knows where and we’re here. All we can do is hope she doesn’t piss him off enough.”

“Like the Riddler did?” Deadshot took a step forward, a protectiveness in his voice. Flag was well aware of the situation and how, even as a make shift team, Deadshot felt it his responsibility to get everyone back alive. If things went south, it would be each man or woman for themselves of course, it was in their nature to save their own assess first, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“That was unfortunate,” Flag pursed his lips and began to check his equipment to ensure none of it was broken in the blast.

“Unfortunate my ass, mate,” Digger stood upright, unicorn pack away safely, “We were all there, we saw what happened.”

“Enough,” Flag snapped, hating that they were right. Red Hood was a loose cannon and would happily jeopardise the mission without a second thought.

“Nah,” Digger shook his head, “I know Riddler was a pain in the ass, but he was a crim, just like the rest of us,” the rough, bearded man looked around the group for support.

“He’s right,” Croc drawled out, “He ain’t one of us.”

“I get it!” Flag shouted, “But we haven’t got a choice here! We can’t search the city looking for them without losing considerable amounts of time. Our only option is to trust that Harley is smart enough to shut her mouth and follow orders.”

“I’m not happy about this, Flag,” Deadshot’s gloves rubbed as he clasped his rifle tighter, “This doesn’t feel right and you know it.”

“We have no choice,” Flag countered, “Now, get your asses moving. Deadshot, Croc, you’re with me, Harkness, you’re with Katana,” the group didn’t argue again, but Flag knew the unrest wasn’t good for the group. They worked together, but that didn’t mean the threat that kept it that way could hold them together forever. If Red Hood took out Harley like he had done with The Riddler, Waller would have an uprising on her hands and he didn’t put it past the group to find some way to disarm the bombs in their necks. Individually maybe not, but if they came together, Flag didn’t have a doubt in his mind they could do it.


	7. Chapter 7

Harley was happy she had a new companion. It meant she didn’t have to keep her mouth shut and her itching need to talk was directed at someone other than Red Hood; considering she didn’t know how far his tolerance stretched, having another option was a life saver. The girl, Harley had found out, was named Isabell. She was the daughter of a police officer much to Harley’s amusement. The girl’s mother, on the other hand, was one of Gotham’s top event organisers, getting paid extravagantly by the hour for whatever shin dig Gotham’s elite threw. It gave Harley plenty to work with, and the girl seemed happy enough to chat with Harley now that she understood the blonde clown like woman meant her no harm. Isabell and her mother had been coming from a wedding venue, the woman deciding to keep her daughter home since Isabell had had a cough throughout the night, thus the thick coat, gloves and scarf. She had a cell phone, but it had been lost in the confusion so she hadn’t been able to contact her father and had decided to hide until she felt safe enough to get to a payphone. Since the GCPD was holed up in their underfunded and understaffed headquarters, even if Isabell had managed to get a call through, they wouldn’t have been able to help her.

“So,” Harley tapped the girl on the nose, walking backwards as she did, “When you see that father of yours, you gotta tell him that we helped you alright.”

“Why?” Harley couldn’t see the girls mouth as it was hidden by the scarf she had pulled up to cover her nose and keep it out of the cold, but Harley knew she was frowning by the way her cheeks dropped down.

“Cause it’ll be funny!” Harley giggled, “I would explain it to you but Mistah J said it ain’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“I guess it is a little funny,” the girl shrugged, “He probably won’t believe me though.”

“Why not?” the girl seemed sad, her eyes looking to her shoes, “Ah, typical cop right? Married to the job?”

“That’s what mom says,” Isabell wrapped her arms around herself and gave a small shiver. Harley felt something in her reach out again, something she was trying hard to ignore. This girl, this little, blonde haired, blue eyed girl resembled what Harley had thought her children with her Puddin’ would look like. Harley clenched her teeth and spun around. She wasn’t going to think about that. This girl, this well dressed, upper class girl, was not her daughter and she was not going to care that the kid was shivering, nor that she had to walk over a long distant through what could be a war zone. Nope. She was doing this because the kid needed someone to get her from A to B, and even Harley wasn’t heartless enough to leave her to fend for herself.

Harley took a shaky breath, her eyes clenching closed and she tried to fight it, tried to block it out but the thoughts kept on coming. Blonde hair, blue eyes, wide, wild smile. Someone who could have called her mum, who would have laughed at her jokes. A child who would have been the perfect mixture between her and Joker. She could see it. All of it. The cot, the toys, the little balled hands that dimpled at the knuckles. She could almost hear its little coo’s and feel it’s fingers twirl into her hair and tug it painfully. An entire childhood that could have happened, shouldn’t happened and didn’t happen. She pictured her child’s first birthday, her child’s first day of school and her child’s first time robbing a bank. The laughter, the cries of joy, the stupid, proud smile on her Puddin’s face when he saw their child following in his footsteps.

“No,” she muttered, her hands balled by her ears, “No, no, no, no.”

“Harley?” a small hand tugged on her belt and Harley’s eyes snapped open. She took a step back, lost in her delusion, the girl, a close image to what was in her mind. It was too much, far too much. Her hand clasped her bat, twisting on it, going to lift it when and hand rested on her shoulder and she jolted back to reality.

“Breath,” Red Hood squeezed her shoulder, “Breath and refocus.”

“Breath,” Harley repeated, tearing her eyes away from the girl to look at the sky. The stars shone back, giving her something to focus on and she picked the brightest star.

“That’s it,” his voice was soft, softer than she had ever heard it and dare she think concerned, “Whatever you saw, whatever you felt, it’s not real.”

“Not real,” she repeated, lowering her eyes to look at the red hood that hid his face, “She’s not, it’s not…real.”

“Harley?” Isabell whispered, looking at her with wide, worried eyes and Harley swallowed thickly.

“I’m…alright,” she forced a grin, but even she could tell it didn’t reach her eyes and when the cold air whipped at her cheeks, Harley felt a thin, wet line sting as it chilled. She lifted her hand, wiping the wet, tear streaked line before rolling her shoulders, “How about we hot wire a car and get out of the cold?”

“I agree,” Red Hood pointed to the side of the street where a black sedan sat. The paint was chipped in some places and faded in others. The bumper growing rust but apart from that it seemed intact, “The sooner we drop the kid off, the sooner we can head off.”

“Isn’t that,” Isabell tried to hide in her scarf further as she spoke, as if she was about to say something embarrassing, “Illegal?”

“Yip,” Harley winked at her, waltzing over and peering inside. They were in luck, whoever owned the car had left the window down enough for her to reach her arm in. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was doable. If the outside of the car was enough to go by, the window probably didn’t wind all the way up and was stuck in that position.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Isabell spoke up, looking around as if the cops would turn up any second, “Dad said.”

“Well, dad ain’t here,” Harley quipped back, reaching her arm in and standing on her tip toes to get a better angle, “And I don’t know about you kid, but I’m feeling pretty exposed wanderin’ around out here when there could be trigger happy ex-military around the corner. If we're in a car, we can get the hell out of here quicker and get you to your mom.”

“She has a point,” Red Hood had moved to the side walk, sitting down and resting for a while. They had walked quite far, taking their time to make sure areas were clear before going down, “Think of it as a survival thing.”

“Like, it’s okay because this is an emergency?” Isabell seemed to be getting used to the idea and Harley let out a low growl as her fingers skimmed the lock for the tenth time.

“God dammit,” Harley pulled her arm out, kicking the tire and grabbed her bat. She slammed it down on the wing mirror, smashing it off so that it hung down by a few wires, “Stupid rust bucket and it’s stupid, manual lock.”

“Gee,” Red Hood looked over, “Master criminal you are.”

“I don’t see you helping,” she huffed, raising her bat again and going to aim for the window. She stopped, looking over her shoulder before cursing. It would be alright if it was just her and Red Hood, but she couldn’t have Isabell sitting on broken glass. She tried again, this time shoving her arm in as far as she could that she hoped it wouldn’t get stuck. Her fingers wrapped around the tip of the lock and she gripped it, pulling and let out a small, ‘woop’ when it clicked up. Her arm ached, the window cutting into her underarm but she had done it.

“I’ll drive,” Red Hood stood up, brushing himself down, “You’re in the back kid, and make sure you put your seat belt on.”

“Aw,” Harley giggled, going to the passenger’s side without a fuss, “Look at you being all mother hen.”

“Shut it, Clown,” he slammed the door, pulling the visor down and the keys fell into his lap, “Typical.”

“You know, this thing was practically begging to be jacked,” Harley mussed at how easy it had been, “You reckon if we check the boot they’ll be something fun in it?”

“Like what?” Red Hood turned the ignition over.

“Like…,” Harley hummed, setting her bat between her legs, “Weapons, or drugs, or…oh! Maybe even a body!”

“A body?” Isabell squeaked in the back and Harley looked to her.

“Don’t listen to her,” Red Hood grumbled, fiddling with the radio, “She’s got a few screws loose. She’d happily shoot a man point blank in the face then stuff her face with cake like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

“Hey!” Harley pouted, switching the station much to Red Hood’s annoyance, “I resent that. You can’t eat cake after shootin’ someone that close. You get covered in brain goo and it might get in the cake.”

“You see,” he slapped her hand away from the radio, fixing it to the previous station and she crossed her arms, glaring at him, “Certified nut-job.”

“At least I know how to have fun,” she looked back to Isabell who had shrunk into herself again and Harley sighed. It proved only further that the idea of her having a kid was idiotic. Isabell looked horrified at the turn of conversation, “I’m kiddin’.”

“I doubt that,” Red Hood pulled out of the curb, heading to the nearest hospital and Harley sneered at him, nudging her head to Isabell and he sighed, “Okay, she’d eat the cake first, then shoot the guy.”

“Isabell,” Harley turned in her seat, trying to reassure the frightened girl, “I was only kiddin’, about their bein’ a body in the boot.”

Isabell said nothing and Harley turned back around, defeated and kicking herself. They had been getting along and she had to open her big mouth and ruin it. The rest of the ride was quiet, Red Hood’s music the only thing breaking the uncomfortable silence and Harley was looking out the window. They were a good, ten minutes away from their destination and so far they hadn’t come across anything troubling. If there was a military lock down like Isabell has indicated, they were sure doing a piss poor job of maintaining it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” the brakes were hit hard, causing Harley to fly forward and her head hit the dash board. She groaned, her vision blurred and she blinked as blood seeped into her lashes. Harley hissed, turning to Red Hood angrily but she paused before she opened her mouth. He was completely focused, his hands gripping the steering wheel and she turned to where he was looking. There. In the middle of the road, was a broken blockade, and a shootout between costumed henchmen Harley knew well and the Military men she had been wondering about, “Hold on.”

“No!” Harley yelled out, reaching for the steering wheel. Her eyes were on the Lamborghini in the middle of it all, the metallic purple still vibrant under the street lights. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was there, she could feel it by the way her pulse raced and heart pounded against her rib cage. In that moment, everything slipped away. Isabell, the bomb, Red Hood. Nothing mattered, nothing but getting to her Mistah J.

“Isabell, hold on,” he had one arm holding Harley in place and the other on the wheel. Stray bullets hit the car, bouncing off the metal, smashing the windscreen, “Isabell, get down!”

“Let me out!” Harley was fighting against him, clawing at his arm and trying to reach the steering wheel in an attempt to cause the car to crash. She had to get to him, she just _had_ to. Red Hood looked to her, then to Isabell and then, he grabbed the back of her head by her hair and slammed it back into the dashboard again. Harley felt herself go limp, her mind fighting to stay awake but it was no use. The hit was too hard, to quick and the sounds of gun fire, screeching tires and a child crying faded away.

…………………………..

Joker had grown tired of waiting. He had also grown tired of nursing the drink in his hand, the conversation around him and the dull lights of the club. There was nothing here of interest. No fat politician in the corner for him torment with the fact that his pockets were lined with Jokers hard stolen American Dollars. No pathetic lovers spat on the dance floor after a testosterone filled idiot looked at another woman while his girlfriend was right in front of him, and especially no Harley, riling up the crowd, determined to get his attention by tip toeing the line he had set her long ago. Harley loved to dance, in fact, she loved to dance for him. The woman was insatiable, constantly needing his attention and she would get it anyway she could. It meant, that sometimes, she would take it too far, let a hand wander to close to what was his, a pair of lips attempt to claim hers as their own when she knew, and they knew, there was only one person’s they could touch, his. It was a game. A game they both loved to play. It was intoxicating, dangerous, a game to see how far she could push before he snapped. Just like he tried to make Batman lose control, Harley did with him but the difference was, that Joker had no issue crossing that line.

He growled in the back of his throat, slamming his glass down on the table. Gotham was burning and here he was, sulking like some stupid love sick teenager. He should be out, enjoying the fun, seeing how much turf he could take in the madness just to get under the others skin. Two-face. He hadn’t tormented the shmuck in sometime and Penguin, the fat bird still hadn’t learnt his lesson. Surely those two idiots would be out, enjoying the madness and trying to gain what they had lost in the past. Jonny jumped to action immediately, coat in hand and ready to drape over his shoulders. Joker looked to him, lip curled and the distaste of his own actions thick on his tongue. He was off his game, he knew that, his men knew that and Gotham knew that. Batman was off, the city left to be defended by his makeshift ‘bat family’ and here he was, doing _nothing._ He should have been monopolising on the situation, should have been using the cover of the madness to plant the seeds of his future plans. A little bit of gas hidden around Gotham, a break in at numerous facilities of things he had his eye on for some time. Hell, even a bank to robbery to keep his pockets full and happy.

“Where are we heading, boss?” Frost asked, jacket on and phone in hand, ready to send out the call.

“There’s a dock, 9C, a shipment came in yesterday that caught my eye,” Joker clicked his neck, shaking out any sluggishness from inactivity, “Send that idiot and his friends to check it out before we get there.”

“Sure thing,” Frost was already dialling and Joker couldn’t help but bite his teeth together a few times. He needed to recruit better, mistakes were being made in areas he couldn’t afford to be known. The oafs, a couple of street kids thinking he was their tickets to making it big, had lost him a considerable amount of money, not to mention the gas that had just been released by someone other than him. Dock 9C was guarded, Joker already knew that, but he considered it a win, win if the idiots got shot and took a few out with them. Disposable, worthless, at least this way they could be worth something to him, “They’re on their way.”

“Good,” Joker eyed his unfinished drink, contemplating on finishing it or not but he turned away from it, his keys heavy in his pocket. He had sat here long enough and there were plenty of other drinks to have later, “You’re with me.”

Frost nodded, surprised etched into his face briefly before it dropped to it’s normal, serious stature. Joker wouldn’t admit it, but he had gotten used to Harley being next to him and without someone in the passenger’s seat, the thrill just wasn’t the same. Frost was no Harley, but at least he could enjoy the look of terror on the man’s face as they flew through Gotham as if it was his very own race track. Joker headed outside, towards the warehouse where his baby was. Frost followed behind him, keeping his distance and when they entered, Joker looked to the stairs. He hadn’t slept in that room, not since Harley had left. He had tried of course, but she was everywhere and he found himself tossing and turning, unable to shake off what he could only place as longing. It infuriated him, but he knew after keeping her around for so long, that it would take something special for him to finally end it.

Joker wretched his door open, sliding inside and he paused for a moment to enjoy the feeling of the leather steering wheel under his fingertips. The rollaway door was pulled up behind him and he waited until Jonny was in the car before he turned the ignition over. He didn’t look at the man; he didn’t need to. He was just content that that space no longer felt empty and when he put his foot down on the accelerator, reversing quickly out of the warehouse he grinned. It had been awhile since he had left the compound, determined to keep a low profile until he had decided on his next move. No longer could he sit still though. The chaos of the night was calling to him, his curiosity peaked and interested in who, could be calling him out. It was elaborate, enticing, and dare he think, invigorating. It was exactly what he needed to get out of his rut.

“Where are the others, Frosty boy?” Joker asked, hand on the gear stick.

“Right behind us, in the van,” Frost replied, his voice having an edge of uncertainty, “They’re ready to go.”

“Good, good,” Joker purred, “Let’s go have some fun.”

They tore into the streets of Gotham, heading towards the docks and it was then that they heard it. A bang, no, not a bang, a _boom_. Joker put his foot on the brake, reversed the car and pointed it towards the centre of the city. The glow of Wayne Tower flickered, the ‘W’ swaying before it dropped down, disappearing and Joker paused, trying to register what he was seeing.

“Where did you say my stolen gas had been released?” He asked, already knowing the answer but wanting it confirmed.

“By,” Frost started, shock in his voice at what they were seeing, “Wayne Tower.”

“Change of plans,” Joker cackled, “We’re heading there.”

“Why?” his right hand man asked, confused for a moment before realising who he was questioning and promptly shut up.

“Do I have to explain everything,” Joker growled out, narrowing his eyes, “Where in Gotham are all the best toys held?”

“Wayne Enterprises,” the wary man replied.

“Exactly Frosty boy, and if that building is as structurally sound as I expect, someone just opened the front doors for us so we can help ourselves,” it was stupid, suicidal even as the building could probably collapse on top of them, but Joker like to gamble and he was betting that the payoff would be worth it.

Frost alerted the others and Joker could feel his body hum. It had been a goal of his to find out what goodies were held in Wayne Tower. He had eyed it for quite some time now, but he had never manged to get past the security system. Who knew a bomb could do the trick so easily, if he had known that, he would have done it years ago. They changed their course, heading in the direction of the thick black smoke. Joker was excited, his focus completely on what he could get a hold of. He took corners tight, his foot taken off the accelerator but only even tapping the break lightly. The car skidded, almost flirting with a loss of control but Joker knew his car, knew when to pull it into line. The streets were empty, making it easier, but when they turned a right corner, Frost yelled out, drawing his focus.

“We’re being shot at,” Frost grunted, grabbing his gun as Joker spun the car to the side, sweeping it through a barricade that they had not expected. On the other side was a military vehicle, painted in camouflage with men splayed out to the sides of it, guns raised and shots being fired. Joker growled in the back of his throat, not impressed with the obstacle and he kicked his door open, rolling out onto the ground to get cover. Frost followed behind him, leaning up against the side and waiting for instructions. The van wasn’t far behind thankfully, the spray of fire drawn to it and Joker pushed himself up, his aim dead on as he aimed between the armour. These men, they were pathetic, they had weaknesses that were predictable. The man dropped, and one of the others dragged him to safety.

“Leave one alive,” Joker instructed Frost, “It’s about time we start torturing for answers.”

He was joined by the others, dressed up in their costumes, wildly aimed AKs in their hands. A few fell, no one he considered important and in the madness of it all he cackled. He hadn’t had this kind of excitement in a while. He stood, grabbing a fallen henchman’s gun and began shooting. Bullets flew passed him, missing, and he scoffed. For trained men, they were poor shots. His attention was drawn though behind them, and he raised the gun to eye level, looking through the scope and his breath caught in his throat. He would know that face anywhere.

“Harley,” he purred out, eyes dilated. He hadn’t expected to find her, not like this. Sure he knew she would pop up at some point, but this was unexpected. He let out a slow, drawled laugh. Once again the little minx had thrown him through a loop. He raised the weapon again, watching her fight a man in a red hood. His amusement from before dropped. Someone was stealing his old gig, and not only that, they had his girl along for the ride. That wouldn’t do. No. It wouldn’t do at all. Imitation was _not_ the highest form of flattery. It was pathetic, a hack for those with little imagination. He let a shot off, aiming at the hood to get their attention, but in the chaos playing out in the car, a shot went unnoticed. He watched Harley fly forward, her head connecting with the dashboard and his lip dropped into a feral sneer. No, no, no. That was not acceptable. From where he was, he could see easily that Harley was out cold, slumped over and unresponsive. She wasn’t dead, no, she was far, far to resilient for that. He watched, furious as the car sped away, reversing down the road they had come and into the sprawling streets of Gotham.

“Boss,” Frost came up next to him, “We got one.”

“Find out what he knows then dump him,” Joker growled out, still focused on where Harley had been, “ask him about our new friend in the red mask.”

“You want him alive when we dump him?” he snapped his head to the side, raised the AK in his hand a let a shot off. A man, one of his men, the one with the over grown baby head fell to the ground and Frost looked over, his face pale, “Dead, got it.”

Joker watched as the dragged the struggling captive into the van. His thoughts of Wayne Tower lost as things fell into place. Harley had gone missing, that was understandable given the circumstances and he could be a reasonable man when he wanted to be. He had missed her, as much as he hated to admit it, but he knew she would come back when she was ready. This though, this was something else. This, Red Hood, this cheap knock off. It made sense, all of it and it didn’t take a genius to put it together. Someone had called him out, used _his_ gas, _his_ signature and now this fake shows up with _his_ girl. Joker had some digging to do. He had the answer to the question he had been seeking, now he just had to find out who was behind the mask.


	8. Chapter 8

Digger, or Captain Boomerang, the title he had obtained from his dear old dad to sell toys, considered himself a fairly reasonable bloke. Sure he complained, and sure he would rather be filling his pockets with diamonds, but he did rather enjoy Waller’s missions. There was something about them, something that just scratched an itch with being allowed to screw around without any repercussions. He knew his boundaries, testing them on the first mission by convincing Slipknot they were being screwed with, but that didn’t mean he would roll over like a dog and wait for his stomach to be scratched. If he could get a bit extra out of these missions, like a stray watch that looked better on his wrist than the pompous idiot willing to fork out that much money, then he was happy. If they just so ‘happen’ to pass by a window of a jewellery shop that ‘happened’ to be broken, he took it as an invitation to help himself. A few beers to relax the system, and he was good as gold to sit in the back, let the others do the work and step in if he absolutely had to.

Being split up, it wasn’t an ideal situation for him. Together, he knew they were stronger in numbers, that his little, sly filling of his pockets would be overlooked due to Flag and Katana basically babysitting them like preschool teachers. There was more room to wiggle, those in charge knowing it was better to pick and choose their battles with the make shift team then come down too hard. Katana though, alone with him, the woman would be on him like a pack of fleas on a dingo. The Aussie looked at the store windows, spotting an item in each, his fingers twitching as they glistened at him. He was like a magpie in that regards, greedy, an opportunist, and being micro managed made sure there was no opportunity. So he cracked open a beer, sipping on it and taking note of Katana whose hand was on the sheath of her sword, ready as usual. The woman never missed a beat, ready to pull that thing and slice him if he made one wrong step. It irked him, got under his skin, but that fancy sword of hers was not a thing he wanted through his neck. He wasn’t one to believe in all that hoodoo voodoo, but he wasn’t one to test the fates either.

They didn’t have far to go, Wayne Enterprises had been in the Diamond district and their destination was a rather large, four pillared structure connected with arched walkways to allow easy access between the four buildings. It wasn’t hard to spot, much like Wayne Tower it was lit up like a damn beacon. Four towers, four potential areas to search and only two of them. Digger already wanted to bolt, the task involving too much energy and he didn’t care all too much which of ‘the bat family’ was holed up in its walls. It wasn’t that he opposed them, Gotham just wasn’t his territory so he didn’t care if whoever it was got blown sky high. There wasn’t malice in his thoughts though, just a general ‘not my problem, mate’ mentality.

Digger had grown up in a small town, one with an estimated population of under 8,000. The main attraction to the place a tourist spot for those wanting to see the old coal mines, vast sprawling bush with attractions dotted around and of course the old railway. It wasn’t a rich town though, it was a typical, end of the line place with a small street of shops and Digger had learnt the hard way that if you didn’t fit in, no one would stop to help you if you were lying in the gutter. Growing up poor, he had learnt to take what he wanted because no one was ever going to hand it to him. His ma was great, a lovely lady who had done her best, but with a prick of a step-father, a rich biological father who would rather his indiscretions kept hidden and being labelled the towns ‘troubled kid’, he hadn’t really stood a chance. So he grew up, doing his own thing, manipulating to get what he wanted and twisted the one hand out his real old man had given him and run with it. Sure his ma was disappointed, but she loved him all the same and at the end of the day, she wasn’t going to tell him to cut it out like any other parent would. No, his step father saw to that. Out of sight and out of mind that one believed.

All in all, he considered himself the typical, bogan Aussie. Thick, twang of an accent, his faithful Victoria Bitter on hand wherever he went and a sense of charm only he seemed to understand. He knew he got on people’s nerves, but so what, they got on his and in his line of business he wasn’t looking to make friends. Screw them over before they screwed him was how he lived. Katana wasn’t interested in screwing him over though, for her it was all business and no pleasure. She’d slice him in two without any ill thoughts towards him and file it away as just another day on the job. That didn’t mean he didn’t try to push her buttons. Digger snorted, he was kind of like Harley in that regards. If he wasn’t baiting someone, he wasn’t having fun.

“I reckon this is kinda like a date,” he threw out, looking to the short bobbed, Asian companion of his, “Nice midnight stroll, heading to what may be a suicide mission.” Katana didn’t look at him, didn’t even flinch so he kept talking, “What do you say? Me and you, a back alley and a cardboard box. Doesn’t get better than that, love.”

“Quiet,” Katana snapped, her hand twisting on the end of her sword.

“Come on, live a little,” he pushed again and held out his beer, “I’ve even got the best beer on tap to loosen you up.”

“I said, quiet,” she snapped, pulling her sword out and ready. Digger shrugged and stepped back. If she was going to go all ‘gung-ho’ then he’d let her take the lead. She crept forward, her steps light and he followed, not even attempting to be stealthy. If someone was around, then they’d pop out sooner or later.

The buildings were in front of them, the lights giving them no shadows to hide in and when Digger looked up, he let out a low whistle. Someone had gone to a lot of effort. Above them, dangling over the edge of one of the walkways was a figure, and on the opposite walkway, parallel was another.

“You think these ones are rigged to blow?” he asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t feel like having a repeat of the last situation. He was way to unfit to make a dash for his life, and unlike Wayne Tower, One Gotham Center, did not look easy to get out of.

“Look,” Katana pointed to one of the towers, “There are people in them.”

“Only one,” he noted, pulling out his controller and the boomerang that connected with it, “Stand back, love, I’ve got this.”

………………………………….

The team was functional, for the most part that was. Out of the members, Floyd could not have hoped for better. Croc was quiet, kept to himself, but he was handy when it came to a fight and Flag, they had grown a mutual understanding over their time working together. He understood, just as Flag did, that if they were to get out alive, they had to work together. Flag was a tactician, Floyd knew every angle and Croc, he was the muscle, the tank to send in while they picked off the other side with ease. That didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned, nor pissed, with how things had turned out. With what Harley had told him, without her they were screwed, and without them, Zoe was in danger. He didn’t know the extent of information Red Hood had, but he hoped for all their sakes that the man could keep it together.

Floyd liked Harley, she was fun, upbeat, she brought the team together in a way that made it feel almost light hearted, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t annoying as hell. She was a mix of sweet and sour. Pick out the sour, and she left a bitter taste that lingered until you took a bite of the sweet. A blind bag essentially, say the wrong thing and who knows what side of her would rear its head. Unstable, unpredictable, and the mission hung on her keeping her trap shut long enough to defuse a bomb and get them all back home. Floyd gritted his teeth, not liking it one bit. Everything resting on the shoulders of the teams most unpredictable member left it all up in the air.

“What are we heading into?” Flag asked, keeping in pace with him, gun raised and ready.

“A bit of everything,” Floyd replied, “Low class crims, people trying to make a quick buck to survive the night, everything right up to Gotham’s very own A class.”

“A class?” Flag looked to him, his face creased.

“Those well acquainted with Batman,” he replied, smiling slightly as he considered himself in that category, “You know, the ones trying to put him six feet under instead of scurrying away with their tails between their legs.”

“What are our chances of running into that group?” he shrugged, not really knowing. Two-face was running around, so was black mask, penguin would be holed up in his club and delegating to his men. It also depended on who was locked up in Arkham and then there was the Joker and his involvement was up in the air right now in Floyd’s mind.

“More their men than themselves,” he concluded, “Not sure about the lone wolf types though.”

“Like who?” Flag seemed anxious, and Floyd didn’t blame him.

“Chaos like this brings out the rats, like Zsasz and the Dollmaker. Easy people for them to pick off,” Floyd didn’t particularly like either man he had mentioned. Zsasz, a well know serial killer who used self-mutilation to tally his victims and the Dollmaker, a creator of sick Frankenstein like creatures as well as running organ trading. No morals, no code; sure Floyd took money for knocking off people but it wasn’t for some sick, twisted desire like them. It was business, cash, a way to live.

“Great city you got here,” Flag muttered under his breath.

“It is what it is,” he replied, knowing that Gotham wasn’t for the faint hearted. Flag had seen the atrocities of war, but that had nothing on how twisted Gotham could be, “We heading to the docks?”

“Only place lit up like the rest,” the soldier nudged his head towards a large crane that was used to lift containers onto and off the boats.

“Why is this never easy?” Floyd groaned. He hated cranes, there was only one way up and one way down. On top of that, one wrong step and you were heading towards the ground and certain death. Cranes were bad news, difficult, a no go in his mind but he didn’t have a say in this. If the crane was the only thing lit up, then that was where they were heading.

…………………………………

Harley groaned and slowly pushed herself up. Her head was pounding and she swore she could hear the arteries in her head thudding with a thick beat. It hurt to move, her head heavy and wanting to fall forward from the pressure and she knew this feeling all too well. Harley was no stranger to head injuries and with her training she knew if she vomited she may be in trouble. Thankfully, her stomach was settled, no signs of nausea rearing and she took a shaky breath. She could feel it, the blood, dried down one side of her face and she reached to pick it off. It didn’t hurt, but she scrunched up her face anyway. Blood was a bitch to get out and dried blood was like leaving a face mask on for far too long. She opened her mouth, stretching the skin before rubbing, being careful not to irritate the gash it had come from. Flakes fell off, not all of them, but enough that she felt comfortable.

She was still in the car, Red Hood and Isabell nowhere to be seen and she peered out the window, squinting to gain her bearings. Her vision was fuzzy, but she recognised a few things and placed the car a few streets over from the hospital. Sirens sounded, ambulances being dispatched or bringing the sick and injured in. Harley hated hospitals. The bleach smell, the bright lights, the sounds of people coughing and wheezing. Such a depressing place. Harley pulled down the visor, slipping the mirror cover to the side and cringed. She looked a mess, more so than usual. Where the blood had been, it had stained the right side of her face an ugly, patchy red and the pink of her eye shadow had washed off with it or blended in. Her eyebrow protruded slightly, already dark and she could see the socket of her eye was already darkening. She was thankful it wasn’t swelling, she really needed to see properly.

Harley pushed the seat back, reclining it and let her thoughts wander. She had been close to her Puddin’, close enough to potentially see him and out of instinct she had reacted. Stupid, she knew that now looking back. What did she expect to happen? Just waltz up and go ‘Hey Puddin’, I’ve got to disarm that bomb you set.’ Yeah, stupid, she knew better to go against his wishes. She had too though, Harley knew that, but doing it outright with him knowing, that was basically suicide in itself. He was in the city though, in the streets, and that gave her some hope. It meant, that maybe, just maybe, she could get him a message, a warning. She would do as Waller asked, but there was no way in hell she was going to let her Mistah J walk around with a target on his back and him not know it.

“You’re awake,” the driver’s door opened and Red Hood slipped in.

“No thanks to you,” Harley huffed, glaring at him and not impressed. She understood why he had done it but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

“You put Isabell at risk,” he shrugged, “I told you no strays but we took her on anyway, then your…,” he stopped, the words not flowing and keeping his end of the bargain, “You put us all at risk.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harley waved, her chipped nails catching her eye and deciding she needed to book in for a manicure at some point, “Foot on the gas, wannabe B-man, I’d rather not give you another opportunity to plant my face into the dash.”

“Are you always this much of a brat?” he shot back at her, doing as she said.

“Right back at ya,” Harley growled, “Batsy didn’t teach you any manners did he?”

“How did you?” he slammed on the breaks, again, and Harley yelled out, hands in front of her to stop herself from repeating her latest injury.

“Jesus,” she swore under her breath, eyes wide, “Be careful, I’m precious cargo alright!”

“What do you know?” he grabbed her by her jacket, shocked, angry and almost desperate.

“Calm down,” she grumbled, not impressed with the turn of events. She had a killer of a headache, her vision wasn’t it’s normal 20/20 thanks to the almost, double vision that was slowly correcting itself, and she had an egg on her head that she could almost crack open and fry, “Wasn’t that hard to put it together.”

“How much?” he jerked her towards him so that the handbrake dug into her stomach and she winced.

“Only that you’re a bat reject,” her hand went to his wrist, the other grabbing his fingers and she pulled them up. “Figure he probably took you in, tried to train you up but considering your…knack for killin’, he kicked you to the curb and moved onto the current bird brain,” he gently let go, letting her move away from him and Harley was cautious. It had been a theory, nothing more than that really; something her imagination had stirred up due to his reactions whenever Batman was brought up. He was so hostile towards the vigilante, and his itchy trigger finger seemed to get him in trouble.

“You’ve been analysing me,” he eventually spoke, his shoulders no longer tense and Harley fought the urge to scratch and pick. She knew there was more to it, that her Puddin’ factored in somewhere but a man on the edge was a dangerous one and she wasn’t in the condition to go toe to toe right now.

“Habit,” she shrugged, “Don’t consider yourself special or nothin’, you’re just one of many dysfunctional characters I come across.”

“Don’t do it again,” he ground out, continuing on their way and Harley took a deep breath, thankful to be out of danger.

“Ya know,” she chewed on her lip, looking at him sideways and not being able to resist one last jab, “Just cause you wear a mask, doesn’t make you any harder to read.”

“She’s fine, by the way,” Red Hood was blunt with the change of subject, “Isabell.”

“Why would I care?” Harley hummed, tilting her head.

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have offered to help her,” Care, it was such a strange word. Harley cared about certain things and people, but if her attention drifted it was pretty easy to forget about them. Now love, that was something Harley held onto. She loved her Puddin’, she loved her friends, like Ivy and Selina, she loved the custom revolver sitting in its holster and she loved helping Mistah J play his games. Care, it seemed so, bland on her tongue. It was the word someone used when they were trying to get out of an awkward situation, like a break up, or a rejection. It wasn’t special.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Harley turned to him, “You seemed to care too, after all, you could have fought harder to leave the kid, even throw the, _I’ll blow your friken head off_ , line in there.”

“I’m not heartless,” she sat up, giggling at the confession.

“Ain’t you just a big teddy bear,” Harley continued to giggle, eyes bright and wide, “I bet you took that mask off for her, bet you walked her right into that hospital and demanded they find her mum.”

“I wasn’t going to leave her alone,” he shrugged as if it was nothing, and Harley threw her head back.

“I was planning on dropping her off at emergency, pattin’ her on the head then settin’ her free,” it was the truth, there was no way in hell Harley was going to step foot in hospital, not even to help a lost kid, “Wait, stop the car.”

“What? No,” Harley grabbed the hand brake, causing the car to jolt again and she bounded out the door and to the boot. Red Hood jumped out, going to grab her when she lifted it open and put her hands on her hips.

“See,” she huffed, “Dead body, no one leaves a car with the window down like that unless they wanted it stolen, or they ditched it.”

“For fuck sakes,” Red Hood slammed the boot shut angrily, “Why didn’t you say something before we jumped in the makeshift hearse?”

“I did,” Harley retorted, “You thought I was kiddin’”

“How the hell is anyone supposed to know when you’re being serious?” he threw the keys into the gutter beside them and Harley frowned. Just because there was a dead body that didn’t mean the car wasn’t drivable, “We’re walking from here on out, and this is the last time I listen to any of your ideas, Clown.”

“A car is a car,” Harley reached out, knocking on the boot playfully, “Dead body or not, it got us where we needed to go.”

“You’re insane,” Red Hood growled, turning from her and heading left, towards Crime Alley. The trip had cut time off, and give or take ten minutes, they would probably get to Crime Alley in a decent time. Harley’s head still hurt, but the pounding was subsiding and she was steady on her feet so she wasn’t going to argue; Red Hood’s music was terrible, and she would prefer the noise of the city over it any day.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well fuck me,” Digger looked down at the contraption in front of them. He went to kick the box, but was shoved aside by Katana who had crouched down to inspect it. She traced her hand up one of the two long cables connected to it. They were thick. Thick enough to hold the two people connected to them on the edge of the skywalks. On top, just like in Wayne Tower, there was a countdown placed. The only problem with this countdown was that it wasn’t the only one.

Digger’s boomerang had showed an increased, hired military presence within the building, along with hired thugs he couldn’t place a boss to. Probably someone Deadshot, Harley and Croc could have recognised due to them being native to Gotham but Digger, they were just another lot of hired goons. It made him snort in the back of his throat. Hired goons were pathetic; why work for someone and get pittance when you could be a self-made man and take the lot for yourself. Together surprisingly, Digger and Katana decided they would let whatever showdown would happen between the two parties go off without them. Then after, they would sweep in, pick off the left overs and save the day like good little squad members. The only problem with that, was that they had stumbled across the unusual box in front of them which was obviously another game Harley’s psychopathic boyfriend had rigged.

“It repeats,” Katana stated, watching the clock drop to zero. There was no explosion, no loud boom that threw them off their feet. Instead the two cables went slack, then tightened just as quickly and the timer reset. From the yelling above, it seemed the extra inch of cable was not a welcome development by those attached to them. “Look, on the side, another timer.”

“Half an hour,” Digger tapped the screen, shrugging, “Generous this time.”

“No,” Katana stood up. She looked to either walkway then to Digger, “We cannot wait any longer. I will take the right, you the left.”

“You going to take on those big bad thugs yourself?” he asked, noting she picked the side that the Gotham thugs had been inclining up.

“I’m quicker,” she replied bluntly. Digger shrugged again, not arguing with her; if she wanted to take the hard job then he wasn’t going to stop her.

“Less work for me,” the two looked at each other and Digger swallowed thickly. Katana’s eyes were hard, warning him with a steeled glare that told him to not screw things up by being lazy, “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist love. I’ll do my part.”

Katana didn’t say another word. He didn’t expect her to either. She was quiet, speaking with silences and observant eyes. The woman didn’t miss a thing and he had no doubt in his mind she would know the second he slacked off. He had no choice; if he didn’t get his ass up that tower and onto that skywalk then his boomerang throwing days were over. Katana turned heel, sprinting towards the tower closest to them on the right and Digger went to the left. He didn’t hurry, figuring he had time, half an hour to be exact. Surely the place had an elevator he could use too.

…………………………………….

Harley was dragging the front of her feet. She was so, damn, bored. There was nothing exciting happening so far. Just empty streets due to the resident Gothamites knowing well by now that when the bad guys came out to play, it was best they tucked themselves in their beds and hoped it would all blow over soon. Hell, the streets they were taking didn’t even have shops on them; Just rundown apartment complexes. That meant no looters, no fires, no one interesting running around and blowing things up just for the hell of it. It was frustrating and boring, extremely boring. It seemed whatever was going on had made all the low lives scurry under rocks so they didn’t get caught in the cross fire. Harley couldn’t really blame them. Every so often she felt the pavement rumble with vibration; a sure fire sign that the hired guns had some big toys running around. Lucky for the two, odd companions, they knew the back streets of Gotham fairly well. Harley was pretty certain, well, sixty percent certain between her and Red Hood they could take out a tank if they had to but the man just wouldn’t get on board with the idea. When he had said he wasn’t listening to her ideas anymore, he damn well had meant it.

So that meant when she asked to stop at the small, boutique ice cream parlour that held a special place in her heart and stomach…he said no. When she asked to stop in at the lousy dive bar, smoke streaming out from cigarettes from people who didn’t care the city was burning around them…he said no. When she whined that her feet hurt and they should steal another car, this time one that didn’t want to be stolen, well, he also said no. Hell, when she had asked to play twenty-one questions just to do something, he even said no to that. So now she was pouting, dragging her bat along the ground and grumbling to herself about the whole, damn situation. Red Hood ignored her. He seemed to be growing pretty good at it to. Only occasionally would he throw back and odd ‘shut up’ her way.

“What the?” Harley stopped, watching something move along the ground in the darkness and she bent down, squinting her eyes as she did.

“We’re here,” Red Hood stopped too, looking to her and pointing to the crane in the middle of the dock yard, “That’s where the rest of the team will be.”

“Really?” Harley drawled, not bringing his attention to the green vine that snuck around the start of the metal dockyard crates, “What gave it away? The spotlights on it or the container dangling from it looking like it’s about to make a bat pikelet?”

“I can’t wait to hand you back over to Flag,” Red Hood snapped back, putting his hand to his ear again, “We’re here Waller.”

…………………………………………..

Floyd knew, he damn well _knew_ that going to the big ass, lit up crane was not something they should be doing. Not only that, he had a feeling that they weren’t going to be the only ones there. No. Far, far from it. They were cornered, bunkered down behind a stack of containers and cornered into a dead end. Flag was beside him, Croc on the ground nursing a clip to the side with an armour piercing round. Floyd looked around, trying to work out how they could gain the advantage but the only thing he could think of was scaling the containers but they had no foot holds. He ground his teeth, looking for something, anything they could use. The sound of bullets hitting the wall of metal didn’t fall on deaf ears and he knew they would have to move and move soon. The hired ex-military knew what they were doing and they were closing in quickly.

Floyd checked his ammunition and tried to think back to how many he had counted. He could take out ten if given the chance, give Croc and Flag a chance to make a break to somewhere less confined to regroup. Flag beside him was screaming into his coms unit, swearing at Waller for some sort of back up but they all knew it was useless. The only way in was by plane and getting dropped in like they had. By the time reinforcements showed they’d all be gunned down. He cursed. There was only one way that this was going to end. A damn shoot out.

“Red!” the three squad members heard a familiar voice call out. A voice they welcomed openly and Floyd got ready to make their move. He looked to Croc, the man like creature pushing himself to a standing position but his hand was still on his side. Flag was checking his own weapon, nodding to him in understanding and they waited for the attention to turn off them.

………………………….

Harley held her guns up, her bat tucked under her arm as she warily looked around the corner of containers and followed the vines that slipped across the ground. Red Hood had noticed them too, but they both knew the docks were massive and from the sound of gunfire the rest of the squad was in trouble. Following the vines, even blindly, seemed like the reasonable thing to do in an attempt to navigate there quickly and Harley knew Ivy wouldn’t attack her. She could even maybe get her friend to help them out; take out a few of the rag tag hired army if it didn’t mess around with the reason the red head was here maybe. It seemed strange to Harley that her friend was down her ways. Ivy liked to keep to herself, within reason that was, but the docks never held any interest to her. Usually she was breaking into some garden like facility to nab a few plants or taking out CEOs of corporations that ‘polluted the green’ in Ivy’s words. Harley never understood it, but when they teamed up they sure had fun so she wasn’t going to question it too much.

“She’s your friend right?” Red Hood asked, peering around the side of a crate and nodding his head to it. Harley took the cue, pressing herself into it beside him.

“Red?” he nodded and Harley grinned, “Aw, you want me to ask her for help.”

“I want you to ask her not to strangle us to death with those vines of hers,” he growled back, peeking out again, “She’s close, hasn’t got to the area yet but if we catch her before we may be able to use her.”

“Nobody uses Red,” Harley scoffed, putting a hand on her hip, “Especially not men.”

“I’m not asking her to jump into the sack with me,” Red Hood turned towards her, his voice a low hiss, “She can keep those damn, man eater lips to herself.”

“Familiar with them are we?” Harley giggled, her shoulders shaking and side of her gun to her mouth to hide her smile.

“Will she help?” he ground out. Harley shrugged, pushed herself off the crate and stepped into the makeshift pathway.

“Only one way to find out!” she sprinted off. Towards the direction Ivy disappeared down.

Behind her Red Hood cursed, not expecting her to take off so suddenly but Harley didn’t see the point in waiting around any longer. If they wanted Ivy’s help there was no point in asking while she had her vines tied up. Harley skidded to a stop, dropped into a forward roll and into a side gap between containers. She had been too late. Ivy was already tangled up in the gun fight and Harley knew it was best to keep hidden until her friend was finished. The gun fired kept coming though. Kept hitting the side of the container and she spotted Red Hood on the opposite side of her. He looked to her, nodding into the clearing and she looked up to the sky. Harley took a deep breath. Wishing someone upstairs liked her and she tore out of her small, safe gap while Red Hood covered her. She held her guns out, shooting as she went, dodging the best she could and when she realised it was too much she yelled out.

“Red!” Ivy turned, her vines creating a shield in front of her while others lashed out, picking gunmen up and tossing them with ease. She seemed surprised to see Harley, but she moved towards her, widening the Vine shield to protect the blonde as well.

“Harley?” Ivy questioned, pressing their backs together as they talked, “Where have you been?”

“Ah,” Harley cringed, “Places?”

“Harley…,” Ivy stressed out, warning her like a parent would. Ivy was always protective of her. She was motherly, almost a cross between a fun older sister and a grumpy parent when she wanted to be towards the younger woman, “That clown hurt you again didn’t he?”

“Mistah J?” Harley asked, shifting her arm out to the side to shoot a man sneaking up on them from the right, “Nah, we’re good Red.”

“Then why did he show up at my door demanding to know where you were?” the green skinned, eco-terrorist ground out, “I was hoping you had come to your senses and left him finally.”

“Nah, Red, I just needed some space,” Harley quipped.

“Where is he then?” One of Ivy’s vines whipped out, grabbing a man by the ankle and brought him over to them. His gun was in hand, but another vine wrapped around it, squeezing until he dropped it, “This one doesn’t seem like one of his.”

“He’s not,” Harley whacked the man with the butt of her gun, knocking him out cold and Ivy dropped him to the ground, nudging him with her foot with a look of distain on her face, “What are you doin’ here anyway?”

“I was given some information that a medical firm was receiving the Sanguinaria Canadensis,” Ivy was obviously bitter by how her voice dropped and held an edge of iciness to it.

“And that is?” Harley ducked, a shot going over her head and she spotted Red Hood sprinting towards another corner of containers. She didn’t do anything, just watched him and secretly hoped he would get hit.

“A plant that is at risk of extinction due to idiot companies trying to use it for ridiculous purposes such as toothpaste,” her friend ranted, her anger getting the better of her obviously as her vines picked up a container next to them and hurled it towards a group of five men. They didn’t stand a chance against it, trying and failing to scramble out of its way.

“It wouldn’t happen to be near dock 9C would it?” Harley slowly questioned, looking to where the crane was positioned in the distance. She knew the docks fairly well considering how many pickups she had made for Joker in the past, and dock 9C always held the good stuff. It just so happened that was where the spotlighted crane was.

“Harley, sweetie, if you’re here to take my plant for that clown I will have no choice but to stop you,” Harley raised her hands, completely backing down and shaking her head.

“Oh no, Red, you got it all wrong,” the blonde put her guns away and held her hands up again, “but I think you’ve been played. The only thing on dock 9C is that big ass crane and there ain’t nothin’ you want there.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harley,” Ivy began walking away, towards the dock and Harley stood on spot, wriggling her legs before running forward. Her friend looked over her shoulder, using her vines to sweep bodies out of the way and when they reached the small group that had manage to survive, Harley yelled out as the red head’s vines darted out.

“Don’t!” Harley grabbed the woman’s shoulder, pulling her back, “They’re…they’re with me.”

“Oh Harley,” the woman shook her head, disappointment clearly etched into her face again as she looked over to the men, “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

…………........

Digger was out of breath, his hand digging into his side in a futile attempt to fight of his oncoming stitch. He had gotten to the top alright. Gotten right to where he needed to be to find a pretty red head woman with a small face and big blue eyes surrounded by black framed glasses. She had been in quite the predicament. Tied to what seemed to be a wheel chair, hanging more off the side of the top of the walk way then on it now. It seemed with each give from the box below, she was lowered another inch. The woman had not been happy to see him in the slightest. For someone in such a vulnerable position she sure had a bite to her and Digger contemplated cutting the line himself. Instead, he opted for his usual, charming banter and threw a few remarks her way. That left him in a predicament though. He had no idea how the hell to get her up because any time he touched the cord, she yelled at him to leave it alone.

“Well darling,” he breathed out, standing up straight from another failed attempt to grab her back up, “What would you have me do?”

“Nothing!” the woman shrieked, “Do not touch anything!”

“Well how am I supposed to flaming save ya then?” Digger growled back, putting his hands on the wire again and preparing to pull.

“You don’t,” she snapped, “I don’t know who the hell you are but this is weight based. If you move me, my father falls.”

“You’re going to fall anyway darling,” Digger scoffed, letting go of the wire again and crossing his arms, “This thing is on a timer and you’ve only got fifteen minutes left.”

“Just,” she cringed when she dropped an inch again, the wheels of her chair squeaking on the glass, “give me a minute to think.”

“Go right ahead love,” Digger decided to sit down with that. If she didn’t want him to save her it was no sweat off his nose. Surely Katana was having the same problem on the other side so would understand if the red headed banshee dropped below.

“Alright,” the woman took a deep breath, obviously coming up with some sort of plan and Digger waited for her to elaborate. “Can you break the glass?”

“What glass?” he questioned, tapping his foot on the roof of the skywalk, “There’s plenty of glass around so you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“The glass I’m resting on,” she ground out, “Can you break it?”

“It’s thick, but I’ve got a few tricks that’ll do it. Can’t say you’d be in one piece after though, they’ve got a bit of a kick,” he pulled out one of his exploding boomerangs and waved it for her to see.

“A boomerang?” the woman scoffed, shaking her head, “Great, my life is in the hands of some guy with a kids toy.”

“I have you know I’m the best boomerang thrower you’ll ever meet,” his vice raised an octave, taking her comment to heart and thoroughly offended.

“You’re probably the only one I’ll meet,” she snapped back, “Whatever, just, I need you to blow the glass alright.”

“Then what?” he looked to the panel that was missing next to him. It was how he had gotten up in the first place, “You’ll still be dangling there.”

“Just do it,” Digger didn’t need to be told twice. He put himself back down the empty panel slot and set himself up. He walked down the skywalk, fixing the Boomerang to the way he wanted it, hoping that it wouldn’t blow out the whole area. He pulled his arm back, throwing it with precision, and when it hit the glass he watched as the smallest exploding boomerang he had in his arsenal went off. Just as he thought, the thick, glazed window crumbled instead of smashed, as well as the one next to it and the woman in the wheel chair was pushed forward with the blast. The chair swung back, and Digger took his chance. One out of two was good enough. He reached for another boomerang, the sharpest one he had and threw it. The wire was thick, but not thick enough to stop it and just before the chair was to swing forward, it sliced the rope and the woman and the chair fell to the ground on the skywalk.


	10. Chapter 10

Ivy was looking at her, hand on hip, waiting for an answer, and Harley found that she didn’t have one. She couldn’t tell her the truth. Waller would blow her head sky high if she blurted out she had a nano bomb in her neck, forcing her to do a suicide mission and saving the Bat Family one by one. She knew exactly what the red head would do. First, she would scold her in an over protective, parent manner. Then she would probably lash out at the make shift group she was with, putting the blame in their direction since they were a group of men and Ivy would instinctively assume the fault lay with them. Lastly, she would probably kill whichever crappy Bat side kick was at dock 9C, causing the whole mission to go belly up. Red Hood would then take off after her Mistah J and Harley, well, Harley didn’t know where that left her but the outcome wouldn’t be good.

The small blonde wriggled her legs, swinging her bat back and forth as she did before looking to Flag for help. He was the mission leader, Waller’s eyes and ears, surely he had been given some briefing on what to say if they ran into anyone the group knew. Flag though looked back nervously. Ivy was an above par meta-human and a real threat. Hell, ever her Mistah J had a respect for what Harley’s friend could do. Harley bit her lip, frantically looking to each member of the squad for help and when Deadshot stepped forward she let out a sigh of relief. Floyd always had an answer. It was what he did. Quick on his feet and in the mind.

“I hired her,” he spoke through his mask, still aware that there could be hostiles around.

“You _hired_ her?” Ivy sounded sceptical and the vines around her crept towards him. He stood straighter, chin tilting back and Harley grew nervous as he lifted his gun.

“Yeah. Me and Floyd go way back, even before the acid bath,” Harley confirmed, “He helped me out a few times at the gun range, gave me a few tips.”

“She was a shit shot,” Floyd still had his gun up, ready to turn it on Ivy if her vines became a real threat to him.

“Help you with what?” the eco-terrorist wasn’t backing down. She was actually growing more defensive and Harley didn’t know how to de-escalate things. “Did someone hire you to take my baby?”

“Your baby?” his monocle turned in Harleys direction and she snorted in the back of her throat. She could picture his confused face under his mask.

“The plant. Someone told Red some fancy plant is at dock 9C,” Floyd lowered his weapon and Ivy’s vines pulled back. It seemed that they understood they were here for different reasons.

“Who told you?” the man asked, his voice demanding. Ivy crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pursed unimpressed. She did not like when men demanded things from her.

“Ah, might wanna ask a bit nicer,” Harley put her bat behind her head, leaning her neck on it as she looked to the sky. They were losing time standing around and as much as she loved Ivy, they couldn’t afford her snippiness.

“Where are you going with this, Floyd?” Flag stepped forward, his hand resting on the gun man’s shoulder.

“Oh come on Flag,” he shrugged him off and Harley was growing antsy again. All this squabbling was going to get them all killed. Couldn’t they just head to the dock, let Ivy get whatever she came for and while they played rescuer like they were supposed to. “Don’t you think it’s strange? First at Wayne tower, we show up to find Two-face's and Black Mask's men pitted against each other. Not to mention the gas attack putting the blame on Joker. Now, we show up, get pinned down by those hired ex-military hounds and she’s here?” Floyd pointed to Ivy and the woman narrowed her eyes. Ivy was smart, extremely smart actually and she did not like being messed around, especially when it came to plants.

“He’s right,” Harley piped up. “I know my Puddin and that gas used at Wayne Tower, it was his new batch. He wouldn’t use it on just anybody. It makes no sense he’d use it there.”

“I admit, none of this makes sense, but we have our orders and we have to stick to them,” Flag groaned, running his hand down his face.

“It doesn’t add up, and I don’t like going in blind. We’re being played Flag, and I don’t like it,” Floyd turned back to Ivy, squaring her up again before speaking, “Ivy, the information about the docks, who gave it to you.”

“Ed,” the air surrounding them changed and Harley looked around the group, confused by the shocked looks on their faces.

“Ed? As in Edward Nigma?” Flag pressed, his lips thin and gaze serious.

“Would I know any other Eds?” Ivy huffed, “He’s been helping me hack into shipping information for years.”

“Red, I thought you had promised him you’d stop messin’ with that big old noggin’ of his,” Harley chuckled, knowing full well Nigma did not ‘help’ her voluntarily. After the incident where Ivy had kept him doped up with her pheromones while she made herself at home in his apartment, he had kept his distance well away from her.

“Harley, shut it,” Floyd snapped. He had his gun in hand, well on edge now and looking around. Harley pouted, not happy with being told off in such a manner but she followed his line of sight while watching each person in the group closely.

Croc was wounded by the looks of it. He was slumped forward slightly, one arm cradling his side and she saw the slight dribble of blood on his scaled skin. Flag looked alright, a bit worse for wear with a small cut in his cheek, dust in his hair and his clothes ruffled but nothing overall serious. Floyd, he was Floyd. Still intact, mask still white, guns still loaded, nothing unusual there. Her attention drew back to Croc and Harley went to him, no longer interested in Floyd’s conversation with her friend. Ivy could hold her own and with how rude the man was being towards her, a knock around the head might not be a bad thing. Harley smiled up at Croc, her hand on his arm as she gently pulled it away. He grunted, his lip raising at the side to show his annoyance but he didn’t push her away. Harley crouched down, inspecting it and was pleased when she noted it was nothing more than a graze; he was probably just not used to being clipped in such a manner so was playing it up a bit.

“You’ll be fine,” she hummed, standing up straight, “When we get back, we’ll get you bandaged up, a couple of pain killers and then you can plonk yourself down in front of that big TV of yours.” Harley turned back to the group and she took a moment, holding her hand up and counting on her fingers. There were five of them including Ivy. There were five, but there was supposed to be six, “Hey, where's Red Hood?”

“Son of a bitch,” Floyd growled, hand adjusting his monocle as it swept in all directions. They were surrounded by crates so that left a lot of options and he could be anywhere. What Harley didn’t understand was why the man had suddenly up and left the group. Her stomach dropped though and her breathing quickened. She was panicking, she knew she was panicking because if he wasn’t with them then he could have left to go after her Mistah J.

“He set us up,” Flag was on his com, yelling at Waller down it. “Waller, have you got contact with Red Hood?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Harley held her hands up, trying to slow things down so she could catch up, “What do you mean he set us up? How do you know that? Maybe…maybe he had an errand to run.”

“What do you mean he cut communication!” Flag yelled into it when Waller replied.

“Will somebody tell me what the hell is goin’ on!” Harley couldn’t piece it together. Yes, things didn’t fit, yes the mission didn’t feel right and yes, she knew Red hood was after Joker. He had an opportunity with them though to accomplish that, even if Harley was going to try her best to stop that from happening. It made no sense for him to bolt.

“Ivy, are you certain your information was from Nigma?” Floyd asked, focused on Flag who was spitting profanities into his com unit. Waller could be heard on the other side, giving orders to finish the mission but the man was obviously frustrated with that decision from their higher up.

“Yes, I had to answer his god awful riddles,” Ivy rolled her eyes, “Why the big fuss? It’s just Nigma.”

“Nigma is supposed to be dead,” Flag dropped his com finally, rubbing his temples with his pointer fingers.

“He’s what?” Harley blinked, looking to her group of misfit squad members. There was no way Nigma was dead. If Ivy had spoken to him recently then whoever told them that had completely missed the mark.

“He was on the team. The last mission we went on before you came back, Red Hood put one in him while his back was turned,” Floyd grunted, checking his weapons and Harley shook her head in disbelief.

“No one thought to tell me that?” she hissed out, hand gripping her bat tightly, “I’ve been walkin’ around with him for hours and you’re only tellin’ me now he killed one of the squad!”

“If it’s any consolation, looks like that isn’t the case anymore. If Nigma is alive, it means Red Hood wanted him for something,” the sharp shooter replied.

“Whatever it is, it’s important, Waller wants us to track Nigma down when all this is over and bring him back,” their unimpressed leader, Flag, added.

“I’ll help,” they all turned to Ivy who was now off to the side, listening to them and Flag looked uneasy. They were discussing the squad and Waller in front of her and that was a big no, no.

“Aw Red,” Harley beamed, “You don’t gotta.”

“If what you say is true, that means there is no Sanguinaria Canadensis,” the green skinned woman was seething. She was calm on the surface, but Harley easily picked up on the bite in her tone as she talked. “That also means Nigma set me up, probably thinking those hired morons that were shooting at me would do his dirty work and kill me.”

“Ah…,” Harley winced, knowing it was probably the right track of thinking. “You sure you want to get involved?”

“I’ll find Nigma, you…continue with whatever this is,” Ivy waved her hand in the air, brushing off the group with a complete disinterest.

“No, we’ll find Nigma,” Flag, always the solider stepped forward.

“Don’t you trust me?” Harley’s friend dropped her face, her bottom lip sticking out and Flag, for a brief moment looked taken in by her.

“Don’t fall for it,” Floyd put a hand on Flag’s shoulders, giving him a small shake and Harley couldn’t help but snort again slightly, “Unless you want her to rip your head off once she’s finished with you.”

“Red ain’t that bad,” Harley quipped, smiling at her friend with a small giggle, “She has a point tough Flag. We’re stretched thin and the clocks tickin’ down.”

“We can handle it,” Flag insisted, not backing down.

“Harley’s right,” Floyd nodded at her, agreeing, “With Ivy on board we can cover more of city while you and Harley head to Amusement Mile. Croc can travel under the city, I can take the roof tops and since Ivy was the last person in contact with Nigma, she might have leads we don’t.”

“Waller wants him alive,” the solider ground between gritted teeth.

“Red?” Harley rolled her head to her friend, an apologetic smile on her pale face, “You reckon you could promise to keep him breathin’?”

“Only because it’s you that asked,” Ivy sighed, not impressed with the direction of the conversation. Harley knew Ivy was not happy with it, angry that Nigma had embarrassed her by leading her on a wild goose chase.

“Fine,” Flag reluctantly accepted the help and turned to Floyd, “but this is on you. It’s your head if Nigma escapes.”

“He won’t,” Floyd nodded to Ivy in thanks.

“Umm,” Harley put her hand in the air, her smile now lopsided, “I hate to be a party pooper but aren’t we forgettin’ somethin’?”

“Shit,” Flag took off towards the Crane, the others watching him for a brief moment. Floyd sighed, shaking his head. Harley chuckled, if Digger had done his job then three out of four wasn’t bad. None the less, the group followed, darting after their forced leader. Ivy joined them and Harley assumed it was more out of curiosity than anything.

When they arrived at 9C, they were out of breath. Harley the worst out of them, bent over at the waist, hand massaging the stich in her side and she regretted instantly not keeping up her cardio like she had been meaning too. She always said she would but after a while Harley couldn’t help but lose interest in keeping a routine like that. Ivy was beside her, a scoff falling from him lips at the sight of the lit up crane. Harley looked up from her bent over position. Being close to it now, they could see the projected countdown on the side of a crate held at least twenty feet in the air. Below, situated on another container was another one of Batman’s sidekicks, the official Robin since Nightwing and that other brat had been knocked off by Joker. His head was forward, his mouth gaged and he was tied to a chair, just as Nightwing had been. It wasn’t overly complicated, hell, it was a basic countdown to being squashed between two heavy containers. Harley was slightly disappointed. After the bombs in Wayne Tower she wanted something more intricate, exciting, something that got the blood pumping.

“Ivy,” Floyd took lead, eyeing up the situation quickly before any of the others could form a proper plan, “You reckon you can bring him down?”

“Just climb up there and get him,” Ivy snapped back, “I’m not saving the kid.”

“We can’t,” he ground back, “the damn crate is surrounded by mines.”

“Say what?” Harley walked forward, curious now and slightly more impressed. That did make things more difficult, “He’s right Red.”

“Not my problem,” her friend went to walk away, but Harley yelled out, running to her and grabbing her arm.

“Red, please,” she looked up at the taller woman, blue eyes wide and Ivy sighed. She could never say no to Harley if it was important to her, “I swear I’ll tell you everythin’ when this is all done, but I need ya help. You know I’d love to see Bird Brain squished by that heavy crate danglin’ in the sky, but I can’t let that happen.”

“Fine, but you owe me Harls, big time,” Ivy pushed past her gently, looking up to the top of the crate. Harley took a step back to get a better look. She loved when Ivy used her powers. There was just something elegant about it. The way the vines twisted together, creeping slowly, silently, they just held an edge of unexpected danger that Harley found exciting to watch. They slipped up the sides of the container, passing through the gaps of the mines their feet could not and then towards the chair. It wrapped around it and the occupant, lifting it a bit more roughly than necessary and in the back of Harley’s mind she wondered what would happen Ivy dropped the kid. Would the crate go sky high? Would there be bits of him across the dock? She hummed, lost in her thoughts for a moment until Ivy huffed next to her again, “There.”

“Thanks,” Flag grunted towards her, moving to the chair and undoing the rope that kept him to it. Whatever Robin had been given had sure knocked him for six, because the kid didn’t wake, even when he was moved off the chair and placed on the ground. He didn’t even stir when the container that had been hanging above him finally fell, crashing down to the one below. The metal groaned on the impact, the sides of it bowing, but surprisingly it stayed intact. It only took a few seconds, but the group collectively held their breaths, waiting for the impact to set the mines off and mangled metal to be sent towards them. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, as unlike Wayne Tower, they didn’t have anywhere to really take cover in time and Harley doubted they all would have come out of it alive. Even Croc, with his thicker skin could have taken serious damage.

“What do we do with him now?” Floyd nudged the teenager with his foot, his mask now off and staring down at him. Harley sensed he was looking for signs of life since he was so still, but there was the movement of his chest whenever he exhaled and inhaled.

“Leave him,” Harley shrugged, “We saved the original Bird Brain and by now he’s probably worked out where to head.”

“I agree,” Croc growled out, “He ain’t our problem no more.”

“See, the big guy agrees,” she chimed, “We’ve got better things to do then babysit the kid and he ain’t goin’ nowhere anytime soon. He’s dead weight.”

“Harley’s right,” Flag, surprisingly was the one agreeing this time.

“What are we going to do about Red Hood?” Floyd spat the man’s name out angrily. Harley couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. Surely he was a threat? If he set all this up he had to have a bigger plan.

“Nothing,” Waller’s puppet bit back, eyeing them all sharply, “No one is to go after Red Hood.”

“But,” Harley looked to the ground, one thing on her mind and she felt her stomach churn again. She knew what he was after, knew that she had to warn her Mistah J before it was too late.

“Harley, I know what you’re thinking, but we have to get to that bomb,” he looked at her with sympathy and Harley knew Flag had already figured Joker was a walking dead man.

“If Red Hood set this whole thing up, the bomb might not even be real,” Floyd backed Harley up and she was thankful he did, because whenever Ivy was around, the woman made it hard for her to talk about her Mistah J. She listened of course when Harley needed, but she would shut Harley down whenever she felt Harley droned on about him too much.

“Do you want to take that chance with your daughter in the city?” Flag retorted quickly, “I sure as hell don’t want that on my conscious.”

“Fine,” the daughter card, it always pulled Floyd into line quickly, “But if I see that double crossing bastard, I’m going after him.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed,” Floyd was warned by the man, “Once you find Nigma, meet back at the rendezvous. Harley and I won’t be far behind.”


	11. Chapter 11

Harley found herself dragging her feet. The heels of her shoes scrapping on the ground more than its usual clipping. She occasionally stumbled. The tip catching the uneven ground and Flag watched her from the corner of his eye concerned. She didn’t know why she was so hesitant. She knew what she had to do and why. She had plenty of reason to do as Waller requested and play bomb defuse expert; even though she really wasn’t. Flag had handed her an ear piece which she had tucked snug into her ear already so she didn’t forget. She also had a camera clipped to her jacket so he could see what they were dealing with and give her instructions from a safe spot. He had gone over it simply with her. Find the bomb, let him analyse it from his tucked away position and then do exactly as he says. Her hands tightened and she could already feel the sweat dampening the fabric inside of her gloves. She was nervous, and yet she couldn’t pin point why at the current moment.

Her lip pulled between her teeth and she nibbled at the side off it. The whole thing felt wrong to her. She felt wrong. There was a chance, a pretty damn big one that this had nothing to do with her Mistah J, but the guilt had settled in long ago. She was doing this for him, to save him from that bastard in the red mask but it went against her basic instinct to follow her Puddin. She had been told that this was his plan, his bomb, and to disarm it was going against him. It didn’t sit well, not at all. Harley put a hand on her stomach, trying to ease away the churning. Her pace slowed even further, causing Flag to put a hand on her shoulder and give a small, reassuring squeeze before giving her a gentle, one off smile.

“It’ll be alright, Harley,” she nodded in response, her breath shaky as she let her lip fall from her teeth. Harley searched his eyes, seeking out that reassurance that was so clear in his voice but found in the depths more uncertainty. With what she wasn’t sure, but it did nothing to settle her nerves.

The closer they got to the amusement park, the louder the music from the area grew. It was music she had grown to love. The music that accompanied some of her fondest memories. Her first date with her Puddin’ was there, on the Ferris Wheel, looking over the city. She remembered it well. The slight groan of the metal as the ride started. The uneven blinking lights thanks to the few broken ones. The night had been nothing but perfect and it was cruel that all this would end here. That memories so wonderful could be tainted in a matter of moments.

“We need to split up and check to see if any of those hired mercs are around,” Flag stopped a street over, the entrance clear in sight from the brick wall he was resting against. Harley looked to it, ignoring him. Her eyes followed the rollercoaster cars around the tracks. There was no one on them, there never were. The park had been shut down a long time ago, way before it had come into the hands of Joker but the rides were still functional after a bit of elbow grease. Joker had maintained them and the grounds. He had plans for the place. Plans that hadn’t been fully realised but they were important enough to ensure things ran right so no extra work was needed to be put in when the time came around to utilise it. “Harley, are you listening?”

“Check for hired guns,” she mumbled out, still not sparing him a glance, her eyes now on the Ferris Wheel and her favourite place in all of Gotham. Up there, at the top, she could see it all and when it was her Puddin’ up there with her he would talk and talk about how they deserved Gotham. He wouldn’t babble, he never babbled. He would just give her glimpses into the bigger picture, the bigger, more intricate plan. She listened, and in turn he offered her everything she had ever wanted.

“Harley, I need you to stay focused,” there was a slight desperation in Flag’s tone and Harley pulled herself back from the memories. She turned, reaching into her holster and pulling her gun.

“I am,” there were no jokes. She was dead serious and she didn’t feel in the mood to force her upbeat, cheery nature. There was nothing funny about this situation.

“Good,” Flag seemed happy with her response and he nodded his head. Harley understood. He would go one way, find an alternative route and she would slip through the front gate since she knew all the nooks and crannies she could use to get around without being seen. “When you find the bomb let me know. I’ll find an area where I can keep check of your six.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying you’ll be watchin’ my back?” she tilted her head, attempting for a moment to lighten the mood. Flag seemed to appreciate it because he narrowed his eyes but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards slightly.

“Get going, and remember to be careful. We have no idea what you’ll be facing in there,” Flag turned his back on her and Harley went to move too. He stopped though, cursing under his breath before spinning around and gritted his jaw. “Quinn…Harley, if we don’t make it out of this. I just want to say. It wasn’t all bad working with you.”

“Aw,” Harley grinned wide, her lips pulling back to show her teeth and cause her cheeks to dimple. “You do care!”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he turned back around, darting off towards the safety of darkness and leaving the blonde to her own task.

“Suck it up Harls,” she grumbled to herself once her smile fell and the heaviness she had felt before settled back in her chest again.

Harley was never one to back down. She was strong. She was confident. She had faced down the Bat more times than she could count and she could damn well do this one task. It was the right thing to do. For her. For her Puddin’. For Gotham. She knew that and she’d be damned if she screwed this up. With her head high she marched towards the entrance, ignoring what Flag had told her. If someone was in the grounds there would be hell to pay. Amusement mile belonged to Joker and if she came across any dumb moron she wanted to make sure they knew they had messed up setting foot on the hallow ground.

It wasn’t quiet. Not with all the noise from the rides, but from what Harley could tell there was no one else but her here. Sure there were spaces to hide, but if someone was wanting to protect the bomb she assumed they would be out in the open and large in numbers. Instead, it was just her, her trusty bat and custom gun walking through the place disappointed. She had wanted to put a few holes in a couple of heads. She needed something to help shake off her nerves after all. It wasn’t right. The whole damn thing was off just as she had previously felt. Still, Harley wandered around, taking a mild interest in things. She stopped at the old games, knowing they were rigged but she picked up a tattered soft ball and threw it at a stack of old milk bottles. It made a sound, but none fell and she snorted. They never fell. She had tried so many times when her Puddin’ brought her here on the odd whim. He always found it hilarious how much she tried, enjoying the small joke of a rigged game. _Just like the world_ , he would say. Harley understood what he meant. The world never handed things to them, never made it easy for them. They had to take what they wanted. Make the world around them bend to them. Harley raised her gun, aiming at the stack and pulled the trigger. The stack fell backwards, the glue that stuck them to the stand weak against the force of a bullet and it hit the wood of the stand with a meek thud.

 _“What are you doing Quinn! This isn’t time to play games!”_ Flag hissed in her ear. Harley clicked her tongue, moving on and not bothering with a reply.

She continued around the grounds for a while and her suspicions were confirmed. It was just her here and she had yet to see the bomb. The only place she hadn’t checked was the Ferris Wheel and she had been avoiding the thing until she absolutely had to go to it. Harley watched her feet walk. She swayed side to side each step as they were slow, deliberate, her procrastination evident in it. Flag was in her ear, hissing at her to hurry up but she continued to ignore him. She would get there in her own time. She stopped when the ground in front of her flicked with the changing of different colour lights and her gaze lifted.

The bomb was there alright. It sat on the platform where you would wait for the bar to be lifted before hoping into one of the seats. Large barrels all tied together sitting quietly. Harley counted them, trying to work out if they really could hold enough to take out the city and she realised it probably couldn’t. She had expected more, much more. Instead, it was just four barrels attached to a timer. She almost walked away, wanting to laugh and to reassure flag there was no proper threat, that at most the gas would seep over Amusement mile and no further. She didn’t though. Instead she went to the barrels, running her fingers over the top of one of them. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, to tell Flag the truth but she never got the chance.

Harley was rooted in place, a feeling she wished to never feel again causing her muscles to stiffen. She couldn’t yell, couldn't call for help. Everything was tense, painful, torturous. Her mind immediately went to that time in Arkham. She saw Joker, the upside down tattoo smile across his stomach which at the time she had thought as a cruel, mocking joke. She remembered his eyes. Narrowed, cruel, angry. She remembered the feeling of watching those paddles close in on her temples and the taste of leather in her mouth. The top of the barrels flew open, flying into the air as the electricity surged upwards from what Harley could now see as a metal plate. The timer she had been looking at was now flashing zero. Someone had set the contraption off from somewhere else. Smoke from inside the barrels filled the area, blocking her from view as it rose to the sky and crawled along the ground. She was still the entire time, begging that her heart didn’t give out, that her mind would still be intact and the damage minimal.

Then the electricity stopped. With the tension gone, the current no longer holding her in place, she slumped to the side. She felt herself hit the rail, her hands trying to grab it to keep her up but they felt boneless, like jelly, and they slipped from the metal. Harley tried to stop the blow, tried to stop any further damage but her body just wouldn’t comply. She hit the platform, her ribs catching the edge of it and she tumbled off it. She rolled, coming to a stop on her stomach, her head turned back to the Ferris Wheel and making out the lights through the smoke. It was thick, dense, the lights reminding her of one of those tacky frat parties with piss poor smoke machines and strobe lights. Her eyelids felt heavy. Her body no longer able to keep her awake, but she caught it briefly. Two feet stopping in front of her. A hand brushing a bang out of her face and that mask. That god awful red mask she had grown to hate and then everything felt heavy. Harley had no choice but to let her eyes close, to let the exhaustion take her but she prayed that whatever happened after this, that it wouldn’t be the end. She didn’t want to die, not until she could see her Puddin’ one last time.

……………………………….

Flag was in trouble. He had known it the second he left Harley. He had tried to get around the park without being seen but the second he had made a break for one of the taller buildings that gave him a wide view of the area below, someone started shooting at him. He bunkered down in an alley, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from but they never gave him enough time. Flag looked around him. The alley didn’t have much, but a rusted ladder did catch his eye. He made his way to it, grabbing the corner and pulling harshly. It budged, not much, but enough he could pull himself up and start to climb. He went up a few floors, opting not to go to the roof out of fear the person was a sharp shooter and would take him out the second the top of his head was seen. Instead he made the tactical choice to press himself as close to the wall as possible and wait the other person out. He just hoped his gamble would pay off in time.

He took the moment, completely on edge, to pull out his tablet. He was worried about Harley. If he was being shot at outside of the amusement park god knows what the clown like woman was encountering inside it. The man was relieved to find she hadn’t come across anyone. She was even messing around in the games section and he growled at her for it. The damn loon needed to keep on her toes and being distracted by a couple of milk bottles wouldn’t do her any good. She did as asked, and he put the tablet away, confident she would alert him when she found the target. He needed to get himself out of this situation so he was ready to help her when Harley came across the bomb.

Flag leaned over the side, hoping the shooter was still focused on the street and not the building itself. He was rewarded when no shot rang out and made a break for the roof. He moved quick, taking the rungs on the ladder two at a time and when his hand gripped the ledge he hoisted himself over. Flagg didn’t dare stand up. Instead, he threw himself down flat on his stomach and crawled low to the ground. It wasn’t a pleasant way of moving. It was slow, it tugged at his clothes and his weapons clattered against the roof with each forward motion but he got to the edge and was able to pull his riffle up to look through the scope. He moved the gun sharply, searching the direction he had pinpointed and found nothing. Flag cursed. If the person had moved, he was completely in the dark and potentially a sitting duck.

He went to move so he could figure out where Harley was on the tablet but his attention was drawn to a loud bang. It wasn’t gun fire, more like the sound of a bomb going off and Flag froze. He could see smoke rising from the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. There was no debris that followed it though, just a growing white cloud and Flag knew something had gone wrong. Harley would not have touched the bomb without his help. The woman was nuts but he doubted she had a death wish. He pulled his gun to face that direction, looking through the scope again, fixing it to get a clearer view but it was near impossible. The smoke was getting worse, thicker, denser. It wasn’t the gas Waller had described, nor shown in a controlled environment at Belle Reve. This was similar to the smoke bombs Batman used but on a far larger scale. Whatever was going on down there, this smoke was to ensure no one on the outside could see what was happening. Flag cursed, laying down on his back and tried to contact Harley. He only hopped she was alright. He received nothing back. Just a whine, some static, and then a crunch before it cut off completely. His stomach dropped and Flag knew what he had to do.

“Waller. We’ve lost Quinn,” he breathed out, eyes closed and knowing what the response would be.

 _“Flag, Terminate Harley Quinn,”_ was the blunt response. Flag raised his tablet, hoping that he would be forgiven for what he was about to do. The photos of the group popped up, Harleys in the middle and he pressed his finger on the screen. He expected an X to come across her face to show the nanite bomb had gone off. Instead, the area surrounding it went red as if it was offline, deactivated. He hit it again, shocked. There was no way in the time he had left her side that she had found a way to shut it off.

“Waller,” he muttered, lowering the tablet and hooking it back in place, “Quinn’s bomb has been disabled. She’s gone rogue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having no updates for a few months! You all know by know why though! Pre-reg placement was such a tough time. I only had one day off here and there, plus assignments and job applications so writing got put on the back burner. I'm still not finished but placement is done, I only have 2 assignments left and my registration exam is mid-late November. After that I have an insane amount of free time on my hands which i can dedicate to updating this story on a weekly-twice weekly basis! I apologies for this chapter being short. It's 1am where I am and i couldn't sleep so put this small window of time to good use! Enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

Joker growled in the back of his throat as he leaned his head to the side until he felt the click of his neck. His lip curled up as his fingers tapped behind him on the wooden table he was leaning on. It was taking too long. This man, clearly ex-military wasn’t cracking under Frost’s interrogation methods. Joker hated military men. They had been hardened by the worlds horrors and it took more effort to break them. Physical threats did no good, and harsh words had a minimal effect. They were used to being broken down by their superiors and shot at by enemies. A couple of hits to the face with brass knuckles did nothing on men like them. Any other time Joker would have loved the challenge and enjoyed how it dragged out; When military men finally broke it was highly entertaining. Joker just didn’t have the time, nor the patience at this present moment. Another crunch rung out as Jonny’s metal covered fists hit the man’s jaw, dislodging the man’s tooth, and Joker watch with a dulled gaze as it bounced across the concrete floor.

“Just tell us who you work for,” Frost stepped back, asking the same question he had a few hits prior. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. Just make it easy on yourself.”

“I’m not telling you shit,” the man wriggled in his ropes, his bullet proof vest scratching against them and Joker decided to take over. He was done with this game. He was bored, frustrated, and growing angrier by the second knowing that Harley was out there running around with some cheap knockoff.

“You know what I like about the military?” Joker hummed as he put his hand on his henchman’s shoulder and moved him aside. The mercenary looked up, a flash of fear coming to the surface before receding and Joker felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “They know how to make them tough. I admire that.”

“You need anything, boss?” Johnny asked, standing next to a small trolley of tools used for extraction purposes. Joker gave him an irritated look, causing Johnny to swallow thickly and put his hands behind his back.

“Don’t interrupt,” Joker snapped at him before turning back to his victim. “I admire the military, because they know exactly how to break a person,” he hummed. “They know just what to say, and how to say it, to make the biggest ape crumble.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” the man spoke up, the tremble of his voice betraying him. Joker laughed at that, crouching down so they were eye level and patted him on the side of his face.

“They know,” the green haired, white skinned villain continued, “that if you break a person just enough, you can then mould them into whoever you want them to be.” Joker curled his fingers into the man’s jaw, turning it from side to side to inspect the bruising and swelling. “Just look at you. Beaten to a pulp, face more looking like a tenderised piece of meat than a man, and still, you just…won’t…talk…”

“I won’t tell you a damn thing,” the man muttered, trying to avoid Joker’s gaze.

“You see. I had this…project you could say. Pretty young thing. Blonde, big blue eyes, killer smile and when she laughed…,” Joker groaned in the back of his throat at the thought of the whimsical sound. “She was smart. Too smart in fact, but just like a soldier she was passionate about her job. That made her naïve, vulnerable, so, I did what any good leader would do and decided to take that potential and nurture it.”

Joker stood up, letting go of the man’s face sharply and moved to the trolley Frost was still standing by. He eyed the items, looking for the perfect one and rested his hand on a decent sized ice pick. He raised it up, inspecting it before opening his coat and tucking it inside.

“Of course, like any smart man in a position of power I considered her expendable, a means to an end, a pawn in what was a greater picture,” he made sure his voice was loud enough for the man to still hear as he chose another item, this time a steak knife. “You’d be surprised though how quickly a minx like her could worm her way under my skin.”

The Clown Prince of Crime decided he didn’t need any more items, happy with the ice pick and the knife, and returned to the tied-up man. He could see now, clear as day, the fear etching into his face, the panic that was starting to well up, and Joker chuckled.

“The little loony toon can be such a pain in my ass, but, I’ve come to like her company.” Joker crouched down again, elbows on his thighs and clasped hands under his chin. He was growing annoyed just talking about Harley, about his feelings for her. Hell, he hated that he had told the woman he had loved her once; he had meant it though, and even if he had the urge to kill her numerous times he knew he hated not having her around more. It wasn’t an easy relationship, especially when she got in the way or messed up his plans, but she was his little Harlequin and it was about damn time she came back home. “You know what I’m talking about right? Big lug of a man like you must have a pretty little wife waiting at home.”

Joker reached into his jacket, pulling out the ice pick and lifted it up before slamming it down quickly. The man screamed out, eyes closing and face scrunching. The clown like man didn’t look away from the mercenary’s face, his teeth gritted together as he sneered up at him as he gently twisted the ice-pick now imbedded into the mans thigh. When the man started to relax, Joker pulled out the kitchen knife, slamming it into the other thigh before pushing himself to a stand and brushing his hands off.

“Now, this is what I was talking about,” his sneer had dropped, and he twisted his face into a pleasant, almost friendly mask, “Expendability. They give you all this high-tech gear such as a bullet proof vest to cover all the main organs, but they still leave areas vulnerable. For example, the arteries in your legs that every day, household items are now sticking out of.”

“Go to hell,” the man hissed, head lopped forward and breathing sharply.

“I’m guessing,” Joker narrowed his eyes, sick of the man’s insufferable stubbornness, “that your wife is a bit on the short side. Say, 5’5…” The man tried to keep his face staunch, calm, but Joker never came underprepared. “Brunette, brown eyes, freckle right next to her nose.”

“You leave her alone!” the man was struggling against his binds, growing panicked and Joker paused to watch for a moment. Military men. No matter how trained or hardened they were, the majority of them all had a weakness.

“I will,” Joker bent over at the waist, his eyes level to the mans and his lips now pulled wide. He had the man. “If you tell me what I want to know.”

“Anything,” the man hung his head, resigned to his fate and Joker lay his hand on top of the ice pick, gently applying pressure.

“Here’s the deal, ape. You tell me everything. I want to know who the schmuck in the red mask is. I want to know what his plans are, and I want to know why he has his grubby mitts all over my property. If you tell me everything you know, I’ll leave these utensils in your legs and have Frosty boy drop you at the nearest hospital, so you can go home to that wife of yours. If you don’t, I’ll pull both them out and you’ll bleed to death in this warehouse for the rats to feast on.” Just to make his point, Joker twisted the pick again and the man hissed.

“Don’t know anything about the guy in the mask,” the man muttered, refusing to meet Joker’s gaze as he spoke. “Don’t even know who hired us. Was told it was some government agency. One of them secret sectors. We were ordered to make it look like a warzone.”

“Why?” Joker began to pace, not happy that his assumption seemed to be wrong. He had pegged that the joke in the red mask was behind everything.

“I don’t know,” the man eventually lifted his head, his eyes begging, and Joker knew he was telling the truth. “We weren’t told why. We never are. The higher ups say jump and we jump.”

“And the attacks using my stolen property?” he ran his hand through his hair, a sign leaving his mouth at how little the man was giving him.

“We were given a container of stuff and some instructions. We didn’t know what the hell any of it was. We just set it up then moved to our specific locations to wait.” Joker paused mid step, turning on his heel and stared the man down with a cold regard. “I swear. That’s everything!”

“Where?” Joker spat out, red lips thin.

“They’ve all been set off!” the man was crumbling fast. He was growing desperate as he knew the information he was giving wasn’t what the Joker was wanting from him. “Last one was at that fairground, but we didn’t set that up. We met some guy there…weirdo, green suit, talked in riddles.”

“Riddler?” the man nodded frantically, seeing his window closing, and for the first time since he started talking said something that made the insane man seem interested.

“Yeah! Please…please let me go.” Whatever pride the man had before was now gone. He was practically sobbing; his body trembling and his tanned complexion was pale under the bruising. Men were funny things. Once cracked they were nothing more than a snivelling mess, begging for their pathetic lives. The man no longer held any shame.

“Frost,” Joker barked, heading towards the door of the warehouse. “Bring the car around. We have an old friend to visit.”

“What do you want me to do with him, boss?” his henchman asked, jogging up beside him before slowing to a walk.

“Get rid of him,” Joker stated blandly. He stopped by the door, shaking the arms of his sleeves out before grabbing his jacket off a make shift hook.

…………………………

Ivy made herself comfortable. Nigma was always easy to find. He relied far too much on technology and the hum of his excess energy use drew her vines to him. He was out when she arrived. Probably setting up some idiotic contraption. For Ivy it was easy to bypass his systems. She could feel each vibration, easily side stepping any trap he laid. After all this time and all their run ins, she assumed he would have learned, but no, just like every other criminal in Gotham, the focus was on Batman. Her red nails picked at the tattered chair she sat on, the threads of it popping as she tugged on the slowly. Oh, Nigma had a lot to answer for. Sending her on a wild goose chase, getting her hopes up, setting her up to have her head blown off. She guessed the fact that women were so underestimated could be worked to her advantage if they continued to think such measures would cause her death.

Ivy eyed the room, unimpressed with the surroundings. What was it with men and their pig stys. His plans were all over the place. Pieces of paper scattered from one end to the other and pinned to the walls were stings leading from one diagram to the next. Erratic to her, but probably made complete sense to him. Ivy didn’t particularly like Nigma. He was arrogant, and that made him sloppy. He never planned for the what if’s because he always believed his plans were flawless, and his riddles, god his riddles were just plain unnecessary.

“Well, well, well,” Ivy sighed, of course _he_ would show. If Ivy wasn’t irritated before, she was now. “I didn’t expect to find you here, Shrub.”

“Likewise, Clown,” she narrowed her eyes. “Although, it doesn’t surprise me that you’d be working with Nigma.”

“Where is he?” Joker ignored her, going to the messily laid out plans to inspect them. “It’s not like the little weasel to leave his hole.”

“How would I know, I’m not the one working with him.” Ivy lifted herself off the seat slowly, preparing for a fight. She could take Joker easily, but she was loyal to Harley, and as much as she wanted nothing more than to rip his head from his shoulders she would respect her friend’s relationship for now.

“And Harley?” he was fishing for answers, obviously trying to work out what was going on just as the rest of them were.

“With her new friends,” Ivy crossed her arms over her chest. It seemed that wherever Harley went these days, trouble seemed to follow, and her new friends had Ivy on edge.

“Do tell,” she had Joker’s full interest now and it was obvious the clown was more unhinged than usual. His shoulder were tense, and his smile was only flicking to his face on the odd occasion.

“You don’t know?” the red head scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch, Clown.”

“Don’t test me,” Joker slammed his hands down on the table, his back hunched before his fist clench on the metal.

“Easy,” Ivy sat back down. It was clear he was just in the dark as she was. “She’s fine. Running around with Deadshot.”

“Lawton?” she had assumed that would relax the man, but she was wrong. Joker seemed to grow even more agitated, clicking his tongue as he tried to hold back the glint of anger.

“Harley asked me to help find Nigma. Seems he’s been working with some new guy on the scene,” there was recognition on his face by the way his brow creased, and Ivy’s gaze was drawn to the neatly tattoo word on his forehead briefly. He was damaged alright, and Ivy had no idea what her friend saw in him.

“Who?” his tone was demanding, and he stalked towards her, hand in his coat and clutching his gun to draw it. Ivy lashed out, using her vines to grab hold of his wrist. They were face to face, each one refusing to budge, and then Joker pulled back slowly. Ivy didn’t move from where she was, ready for him to come at her again. “Ivy…,” he started, and that god awful grin that made Ivy shiver was now firmly on his face, “you want Harley safe, don’t you?”

“Spit it out, Clown,” she snapped, not interested in another run around.

“How about we work together? You want Nigma, I want Nigma. You want Harley home, I want Harley home…” he trailed off, hands now behind his back and rocking on the balls of his feet.

“If you mean home, as in back in Gotham,” she grumbled, hating that he had a good point. She liked to work alone, but even Ivy had to admit she was out of her depth with what little information she had been given. All she knew really, was that Harley obviously needed her help and she was surrounded by some pretty heavy hitters.

“What do you say? Want to be my friend?” he held out his hand, his stupid grin still spread across his face, and Ivy knew if the opportunity came up he would happily stab her in the back. Still, she took it, putting aside her hate for the man as she was far more concerned for Harley, and besides, she was confident she could take the Clown if he even tried to double cross her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long wait for such a short chapter.  
> I've been so stuck on this story! It may take me some time to put out the next chapter as I need to go back and redirect where i want to take this. I have the end in mind but it's difficult getting there with the lack of inspiration I've had. I'll do my best though!  
> I really struggled writing this chapter, but i got there in the end but i know it's not as long as my usual chapters.  
> Hope you all enjoy though!


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